


The Little Prince.

by AnissaATaylor



Series: What Was Lost. [1]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Earth-199999, Gen, I do what I want, Loki is six years younger than Thor because reasons, Pre- Thor, Seeeekrits, Some things are deliberately not canon, They also are not mythos correct either, young loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnissaATaylor/pseuds/AnissaATaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories about Loki’s youth, leading up to the day he learned who he truly was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Just a Babe in Arms.

“ _If you think you're better than us, child, then leave.”_

“ _I... Better? I don't know what you mean...” It had only been a little trick, I mean, like no-one had ever turned anyone into a pig before._

“ _You shun the advances of your king, and then turn him into swine? Do you think that's funny child?” Ok well maybe no-one had ever turned the_ king _into a pig but hey, sorry she didn't want his sweaty hands all over her._

“ _He is my uncle... I...”_

“ _All the more reason to keep him happy, yes?” It was really tempting to turn this guy into a pig too, now she thought about it... He kind of looked the part anyway, with his chubby face and squinty eyes._

“ _I just don't think it's right.”_

“ _Well, neither does he. He has suffered your insolence enough, trick after spell after outburst you have been nothing but trouble since your mother and father died. Clearly you think yourself above us. You are banished, for treason. Only the fact that you are family spares you your life. See if th_ _e_ _Æsir_ _will_ _take you, hmmm? Or the Jotun?” Hmmmm... The_ _Æsir? She had always wanted to visit Asgard..._

“ _Banished?”_

“ _Yes, banished. You are no longer Vanir. Find someone else to call you their own, to put up with you. Guards! Throw her out of the city.”_

“ _But my things!” He smiled cruelly down at her as two guards grabbed her arms._

“ _You'll find all that you need has already been taken to the city limits for you, we are nothing if not considerate.” Well._

\---

Sneaking into Asgard had been easier than she'd anticipated, which should have given her a hint that everything wasn't as it seemed. With her bag in one hand she's wandered through the busy marketplace trying to work out her next steps. Food and shelter were her top priorities, after that finding employment. Her musings were cut short when a heavy hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up at the face of a guard in the uniform of the palace. Well... Someone must have recognised her and let the king and queen know about a Vanir interloper in their midsts. Typical. She couldn't catch a break.

“You are to come with me, the queen has asked to see you.” His face showed no emotion and she dipped her head in a small show of deference.

“Of course.” He doesn't touch her again, just turns and starts in the direction of the castle, assuming or trusting that she will follow him. It's reassuring that he didn't manhandle her to their destination, and she thought that maybe some of the stories about the Æsir that she had grown up with, that they were violent people who would take any excuse for fighting, even in the streets, may be wrong. Or at least an exaggeration. Of course she knew they prided themselves on their skills as warriors and their planning and tactics, as they should if strengths and skills they were, but they didn't seem to be the bloodthirsty wretches she expected. Everyone seemed very nice so far, and Asgard itself was beautiful, full of looming buildings of gold and glass and light, everywhere clean and fresh and colourful. They worked their way down side streets and past small huddles of houses and shops. Suddenly the town seemed to vanish and she stood looking up at an imposing castle, the space they stood in a large courtyard full of flowers and statues and a fountain that looked suspiciously like the Aesir Odin with his staff Guniger held aloft, water gushing from a cupped hand. _Well... That's interesting_. People milled around, talking and laughing, their clothes finer than the people she had been surrounded by before.

“Miss, if you would follow me.” Of course, they had places to be, standing around in front of the palace gawking wasn't doing her any favours, but the sight of it, a palace that looked like it was made from gold, towers soaring to the heavens... Well, it was nothing like her uncles palace that was for certain. The Æsir certainly knew how to do opulence. She followed the guard up a large set of stairs and into the palace, eyes widening at the sight of miles of marble and gold, walls lined with art. Breath taking. She could see why her uncle was jealous of Odin and the Æsir in general. He lead her into a large hall, and she knew immediately that this was where the Aesir met, the large marble table lined with seats along the back wall sat on a raised area, the central chair larger and more ornate than the others. Odins chair, not his throne, no, but his chair. This was the chambers of the council of Aesir, where punishment was dealt. And here she stood. Alone. She tugged on the end of her long braid, wondering if it was her hair that had given her away. Sure, there were a few redheads dotted around, but they were far out numbered by blondes and hers was a bit more... Vibrant. Who was she kidding, it was a cross between a copper pan and a carrot, hardly inconspicuous. Red hair was pretty common among the Vanir, but apparently not with the Æsir. Add to that they all looked very tanned and she was paler, more peaches and cream, and frankly she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was surprised no-one had pointed and whispered “Look, Vanir!” as she passed, it was that obvious where she was from. _Maybe they wont put me to death._ _What was that saying? An enemy of my enemy is a friend?_

A door at the back of the room clicked open and she looked up to see a beautiful woman with long blond hair hanging over her shoulder in a twisted braid, her gold & cream dress rich and full, a small gold crown perched on her head, nestled into her hair. Queen Frigga, there was no doubt about it, if her clothes didn't give her away the way she carried herself would have. She watched the queen make her way behind the table and take the seat to the right of Odins empty chair. Even in his absence she didn't take it. Dropping her hand from her hair she tried to keep her face impassive as the queen peered down at her.

“You are Gylla, princess of Vanaheim?”

“Not anymore Queen Frigga, but yes, I was... How did you...?”

“Heimdall sees all.” Ah... Yes... The all knowing in his observatory, she'd forgotten about that. There probably wasn't a single thing in all the realms he didn't know about. They know she was coming long before she arrived. Given that, she wondered why they hadn't just arrested her as she found her way to the gates. Obviously Odin and Frigga had plans.

“Of course.”

“You have been banished from your home. Why?” The queens eyes narrowed slightly and Gylla knew that she already had the answer and this was a test. Lying was not an option.

“I turned my uncle, the king, into a pig, your majesty.” She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw her mouth twitch up in a smirk, only for a second, before her face settled again.

“Ah, I see... And his crime?”

“I didn't appreciate his advances.”

“I thought that kind of behaviour was common in your realm?” She shuffled her feet, breaking the uncomfortably knowing gaze of Frigga, feeling ashamed because yes, yes it was all too common in Vanaheim and it made her feel dirty, especially here in this place where it was frowned upon, against the law probably.

“It is, but that doesn't mean I agree with it or like it.”

“I see. Yes. Well, we have none of that in Asgard. So, you're strong willed and a somewhat powerful sorceress... What else are you?” This really wasn't going in the direction she'd anticipated. Frigga looked down at her, eyes slightly narrowed, waiting semi patiently for an answer. Her hands, crossed on the table in front of her, twitched, and she imagined it was taking a lot of effort for the queen not to drum her fingers on the top.

“I don't really know your majesty. I never stopped to think about it.”

“Do you fight?” She felt her eyes widen. A duel? Was that what this was about? Was she going to have to duel? That probably wouldn't end very well for her. Friggas mouth twitched in with a smirk again and her heart slowed... Maybe not a duel. Maybe.

“Some, but I'm far from the best with a sword. My strength is in my magick and my healing.”

“Do you sew?” These questions... What did Odin and Frigga have planned for her? Maybe not Odin, considering his absence... She didn't know enough about Asgard to know if he was expected at something like this... Whatever this happened to be.

“Yes.”

“Our realms are enemies, you know this... Why did you come here?”

“I could hardly go to Jötunheim.” _Really Gylla? Really? You're going to sass the queen of Asgard, in her home, while trying not to be put to death? Genius._ She mentally scolded herself, despite the fact that the answer was true enough. The frost giants hated the Vanir more than the Æsir did if the stories she'd told were anything to go by. They didn't really seem to like Gods in general.

“No, quite... You risked your immediate execution as the princess of our enemy found in our land, why?”

“I have always wanted to see your realm.” Honest and to the point. Despite the sometimes scary tales of the violence of the Æsir, she'd always longed to live in the city, where (she now found it to be true) she'd been told the walls shone like gold and the sun always shined. Vanaheim was more earthy, subdued, all wood and stone and nature. That was fine, she enjoyed being close to the earth, but she couldn't resist the pull of the shine of Asgard.

“You'll need work.” _Huh?_ Had she heard the queen correctly? That sounded the furthest thing from a death sentence she'd heard.

“I beg your pardon your majesty, did you just say work?”

“You're not opposed to working are you? Has your life as a princess turned you from the idea of working to pay your way?” The queens gaze was stern and held a touch of judgement, but Gylla had no qualms with working, she enjoyed being kept busy if she was honest. Sitting around doing nothing held no interest for her.

“No... No your majesty I just... Well... It's not what I was expecting.”

“You were expecting something less pleasant? Maybe death?”

“Well, yes.”

“We are a forgiving people Gylla, and you have been cast out by your own for doing no more than any person in our realm would have done with impunity. You are welcome here so long as you behave. Remember, Heimdall sees all.” She nodded fiercely, not wanting to give Frigga any reason to change her mind and boot her out of Asgard, or worse, kill her. She rather liked being alive. From outside of the door they heard a desperate wailing that seemed to be getting closer and Gylla recognised the sound as that of a very unhappy child. The door that Frigga had entered by clicked open and a young frazzled looking woman slipped into the room holding a baby swaddled in a cream blanket.

“My queen, he wont stop crying.”

“Your job is to tend to Loki's needs and make him happy, and yet again I find you incapable of even soothing him. Tell me, Aya, why should you stay in my employ?” The young womans mouth worked as if she was trying to speak but couldn't think of a single word and Gylla found herself pitying her. What a situation, not only to be clutching a screaming baby but to then be scolded by the queen. _Poor lamb, she looks like she's about to cry._ Frigga turned her gaze back to Gylla and smiled in a way that said she'd had a very interesting idea and wanted to see what would come of it.

“Gylla, take my son from his useless nursemaid.”

“Pardon?”

“Take my son from his nursemaid. She is the sixth we have hired since his birth and none have lasted. Let us see if you can do any better.” Oh this wasn't terrifying at all. She carefully made her way to the woman and child and, with a sympathetic look at the boys now ex-nursemaid, she slipped the child from her hands, settling him into the crook of her elbow and making sure she had hold of him tight. This young boy was a prince and dropping him wouldn't end well for her. She could feel Friggas eyes on her neck as she stroked the babies back gently and hummed softly. His little face was bright red from the exertion, eyes screwed up tight, but she could see that under normal circumstances his skin would be pale, his hair a shock of black against it. _Well little prince, it looks like we both stick out like a sore thumb._ She rocked slightly from side to side and slowly, very slowly, his screaming dropped in volume and his face relaxed until he stopped completely and fell into an exhausted sleep. She had no idea how long she'd stood holding him, or if it was her that had quieted his screaming or if he'd just exhausted himself, but she felt pleased none the less.

“Very good.” Friggas voice snapped her back to the present and she looked up to see the queen smiling down at the two of them. “It looks like we've finally found someone who can calm my son. And you, Gylla, have found not only employment but a home. Congratulations, you are now the nursemaid of Loki, prince of Asgard.”

“Thank you, my queen, if you are sure.”

“I am sure. You will care for him until he comes of age, or until you no longer do your job sufficiently. You will be his nurse, his teacher, his companion... Whatever he needs from you. Care for him as if he was your own and guard him with your life. Your own life may very well depend on it.”

_Well shit._ At least she wasn't going to be killed... Yet.


	2. 01: Show Me Your Magick.

Loki was a very quick learner. He was only six months old when he decided that sitting around waiting to be carried places by Gylla was too boring and took to crawling, making it considerably easier to cause mischief. Soon even that seemed to lose it's shine and at ten months he took his first unsteady step, face full of glee. Now there was no stopping him. Chasing the thirteen month old prince around the palace was the best exercise that Gylla could think of, and true to form (because if there was anything the little prince seemed to like more than giving people heart attacks and causing trouble she didn't know what it was) today he'd hot footed it out of his bedroom before she had a chance to blink. Hel knows where he could be and what he could be doing, the last time she'd found him he'd managed to turn his brothers tunic into a chicken. At least Thors screaming had let her know where her charge had gotten to. Loki's magick had come as less of a surprise to her than it had to everyone else, as she'd felt it thrumming under his skin against the magick in herself the first time she'd held him without layers of material shielding it. Magick was in his soul she knew, and he would be a powerful sorcerer if he put his mind to it, something he seemed inclined to do. Even his accidental transformations (because he couldn't honestly have _intended_ to turn Friggas favourite vase into an shrub, could he?) were strong, and she could only wonder what was in store for him with a bit of teaching. What kind of tricks he could play and mischief he could cause with some focus.

The task at hand however was to find the little prince before he accidentally turned Sifs hair into snakes or found his way into the kitchen to explode a sack of potatoes. _Oh Gods... Don't let him be in the kitchen!_ She didn't run anymore looking for Loki, having literally tripped over him on more than one occasion (she was sure he hadn't been sat there before though... She would have noticed, wouldn't she?), preferring instead to walk at a leisurely pace and keep an ear out for the tell tale sounds of him, like the giggling of a child that found whatever was happening _hysterically_ funny, even if whatever was making him laugh was making the people around him angry. Not that they could actually get angry at him, he was only an infant and wouldn't receive a spanking from the staff like one of their children would simply because he was a prince. It wasn't worth their jobs.

She methodically made her way from room to room in the palace, checking the little princes favourite hide outs like the guards office and the council chambers first. It was slow going due to the fact that the palace had more rooms than she would care to count, but some she knew he never really ventured in, like his parents bedroom and the school room, although she didn't know why. Well, she could probably guess on the school room, Loki no doubt having seem Thor slowly making his way to his lessons as if he was heading to his execution. After clearing the room she was on she quickly made her way down the wide marble stairs, unhappy about the fact that he continued to climb up and down them on his own. He'd yet to hurt himself, showing surprising (like most things he did) proficiency with stairs, but that still didn't make her feel any better about the whole thing. All it took was wrong misplaced foot and he would end up tumbling down them and hurting himself. As she reached the foot of the stairs she saw a young guard making her way over to her and her heart sunk. _Please let him be ok._

“Lady Gylla.” She smiled kindly as he shuffled his feet sheepishly, a light blush on his cheeks. Whatever he had to say it wasn't life threatening.

“Yes?”

“Are you looking for prince Loki?”

“Indeed I am. Have you seen him?” At her question his blush deepened and he looked even more sheepish. She held back a giggle as he cleared his throat.

“He's in the gardens ma'am... I tried to get hold of him but I couldn't. He's rather fast.”

“He is that, yes. That's why I seem to spend most of my time trying to find him.” She smiled at him kindly and he grinned back, obviously feeling slightly less useless at not being able to snag the prince and bring him back inside. “Thank you for your help. I'd best go and get him before he runs off somewhere else.” He bowed at her and she ducked her head in return before making her way outside to the gardens. Before she was quite there she spotted Loki's dark hair against the green around him as he ran from left to right, throwing himself to the ground and rolling around, giggling wildly as he did so. She smirked as she watched him, glad that at least this time everything looked pretty much as it should do... No accidental magick. She picked her way around the multitude of flower beds towards the grass that Loki played on, carefully watching him in case he made another run for it.

“There you are my little prince! You had me worried for a moment there!” She looked down at the grinning face of her charge, black hair tangled with twigs and grass from his adventures on the lawn that had a very sternly worded 'Keep off of the grass' sign at it's edge. She reached down to scoop him up into her arms but with a giggle he was on his feet and off running out of reach. She couldn't help but laugh along with him, the sounds of his carefree giggles were infectious. _I hope I don't get fired for this_ Stepping onto the lawn she lifted the hem of her skirt and once again considered trousers as work wear before racing after the boy. He may have a head start but she was faster and (hopefully) steadier on her feet. He stopped and turned to face her, offering a small wave and a giggle. He was too adorable.

“Gylla!” She stopped short, her jaw dropping. Did he just say her name? It sounded exactly like her name... Sure, he'd been chattering away in baby speak offering up garbled half formed words but... He just said her name, actually said it. His first proper word. He giggled again and turned, continuing his run. Bugger. Shaking her head she chased him again, quickly catching him up and scooping him up in her arms, making him laugh loudly as she tickled him.

“Well now my little prince, it looks like I've got you. Lets go back inside for lunch shall we?” He looked up at her, considering her words carefully before his face split in a grin.

“Buhbye Gylla!” She frowned, wondering what he meant and in a blink he was gone, a wisp of smoke hanging in the air in front of her.

_Oh you have_ _**got** _ _to be kidding me._


	3. 02: Sleep Little One.

“My queen, Loki has a fever.” Frigga, who was overseeing the placement of a new tapestry, turned to Gylla, her delicate features made up into a careful scowl.

“You are a healer, are you not? Heal him.” She tried not to let out a sigh at the statement. If it was that simple she would hardly be bothering the queen, would she? Still, it was hardly the first time someone had made a stupid assumption about her magick.

“It doesn't work like that I'm afraid. My magick can heal broken bone or split skin, but a fever is the body fighting something. My magick fixes damage, what is broken, and a fever is not that. I have some herbal remedies that may help ease his symptoms, although I have not yet used them on a child.”

“You have come for my permission?” Frigga eyed her quizzically.

“Yes.”

“Are they safe?” Her eyebrow was raised, one side of her mouth down turned, one part contemplative, one part put out by the extended interruption. It was a look Gylla had grown used to over the years.

“For adults, yes.”

“Then try them. I wish to see my son well again.”

“As you wish. I will have to adjust them for his age and size... Is there anything I should know before I start? Some medicines can have negative effects in certain people.” Frigga hesitated slightly before answering.

“No. He is as the rest of us, unless his magick should effect it?” It was a lie and they both knew it, but it was one that would go unacknowledged. There was something different about Loki, Gylla was certain of it after spending every day with him for over two years, but what it was she didn't know and without Frigga deciding to tell her she never would. _The best kept secret in Asgard._ Whatever the difference was, she just hoped it wasn't something that could change the effect of the remedy. She didn't think Frigga would put her son in harms way to protect a secret, but people were known to do strange things if they were desperate enough.

“Not negatively, it may help speed up his healing, I always found myself to get well faster than most.”

“Good. I shall come and see him shortly. See him well Gylla.” The look in her eye seemed to say 'Or else' and Gylla didn't doubt it one bit. She gave a small bow and turned to make her way back to the little princes bedroom where she had left him napping. When she got there she found him sat up in bed, eyes bright with fever, skin flushed and sweating, crying softly.

“Oh my little prince... Come here.” She swept him into her arms, taking one of his blankets with him, and he nestled his head into her neck, one hand reaching out to hold the end of her braid, a habit he'd had since she started caring for him. He let out a weak cough and she dropped a kiss on the top of his head before making her way through the palace to the servants kitchen. It should be quiet at this time in the day and all of her things were there. Guards nodded in hello as she made her way through corridors and she smiled back, one hand rubbing small circles on Loki's back, trying to soothe him, until finally they were in the kitchen. She set him down carefully on the square island in the middle of the room and as he curled up on his side to watch her, she gathered together the ingredients and equipment she needed, laying them out of the table a small way away from her charge. It wouldn't do any good at all for him to eat something while her back was turned. As she prepared everything she started to sing to the little prince.

“ _The sky is dark and the hills are white_  
 _As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;_  
 _And this is the song the storm-king sings,_  
 _As over the world his cloak he flings:_  
 _"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"_  
 _He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:_  
 _"Sleep, little one, sleep."”_  


There was something calming about working with her hands. She held the pestle and mortar tight and pounded the herbs into a fine paste, slowly but surely, bit by bit. It was hard work, harder than people realised, to make medicines like this. It wasn't like making a cake, although more than one person had tried to make that comparison. _Fools._ It was more than just mixing ingredients together and hoping for the best, you had to know each and every plant, because one tiny mistake could kill someone. It wasn't a case of 'Whoops, I used nutmeg instead of cinnamon!' it was far more serious, mistaking one leaf for another could be the last mistake you ever make.

She felt a tugging on her skirt and looked down to find Thor staring up at her, eyes wide. She stopped singing and let the pestle rest against the rim on the mortar, kneeling so that she was at eye level with the prince.

“Can I help you young Thor?”

“Is Loki sick?” He looked up at her, face set and serious, his large blue eyes searching hers, and she smiled softly at him, touched by his concern.

“Yes he is.”

“Will he die?” He studied her face carefully as he spoke, his question taking her by surprise, and she wondered why he'd come to that conclusion. It seemed like an odd leap for such a young boy to come to, and while she had to admit Loki did look terrible, he didn't look anywhere near close to death.

“What? No, of course not little one. He's a bit unwell but he'll be as right as rain soon enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise you Thor, that your brother will be well soon.” He studied her carefully once more as if trying to work out if she was lying to him just to placate him, and after a moment he seemed to make up his mind that she was being truthful, and gave a small nod, his face relaxing slightly.

“May I stay?”

“Of course you can.” He pulled over a stool and clambered up onto the island to sit between herself and the curled up Loki who looked between the two of them impassively, eyes glazed and forehead beaded with sweat. Thor reached out and carefully stroked his little brothers damp hair out of his face, brows furrowed in concentration. She watched the boys carefully as she made her way over to the fire & hung a pot of water over the flames to heat before hunting out a small wooden cup from one of the cupboards. The tricky part now would be getting her little prince to actually drink it, because no matter what she did it would still taste horrible and children were less likely to drink something horrible for the reason it was good for them.

“Gylla... Sing.” His voice sounded painfully raw and rasping, and she cringed slightly to hear it.

“ _On yonder mountain-side a vine_  
 _Clings at the foot of a mother pine;_  
 _The tree bends over the trembling thing,_  
 _And only the vine can hear her sing:_  
 _"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;_  
 _What shall you fear when I am here?_  
 _Sleep, little one, sleep."”_  


She dipped her finger in the water to test it's temperature, and finding it just warm enough ladled some into the cup before scraping the herb paste and a few spoons of honey in and mixing it, careful not to spill any. Thor watched her every move as if he was making sure she wasn't doing anything untoward. Sweeping Loki off of the counter and into her lap as she sat on the stool Thor had used.

“OK little prince, I need you to drink this. It probably wont be very nice, but it should help you feel better. Will you do that for me?” He looked up at her, eyelids heavy, and nodded slowly, mouth drawn in an unhappy frown. She handed him the cup and he held it in both hands, looking at the contents suspiciously before taking a small sip. Pulling a face he looked up at her from under his eyelashes grumpily, fairly blaming her for the fact that he had to drink something he didn't like. That was another look she was used to, her little princes _'I'm not happy about this in the slightest but if I must. I blame you...'_ look. She stifled a smile, stroking his hair and placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“Sing, Gylla.”  


“ _The king may sing in his bitter flight,_  
 _The pine may croon to the vine to-night,_  
 _But the little snowflake at my breast_  
 _Liketh the song I sing the best,--_  
 _"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;_  
 _Weary thou art, anext my heart;_  
 _Sleep, little one, sleep."”_


	4. 03: It Is Not Your Place.

It had been three weeks since Odin had decided that enough was enough and had bound Loki's ability to teleport with a simple silver bracelet that could only be removed by himself, Frigga and Gylla. Thor was overjoyed at the turn of events, as now Loki couldn't cheat when they were playing hide and seek and he knew Thor was about to find him. Loki on the other hand wasn't happy at all. So unhappy in fact that he'd been sulking in his bedroom ever since, trying as hard as he could to work the bracelet from his wrist. After a few days of trying to persuade him to play or draw Gylla had decided to leave him to sulk it out, so it came as a surprise to hear his _'I've just done something I shouldn't have but it's really funny'_ laughter coming from the corridor leading to the kitchen. She grinned and made her way to the sound, wanting to know what had finally broken past his misery and made him laugh that infectious laugh. Her smile shifted to a frown and her footsteps quickened when his laugh suddenly switched to a pained cry, and when he started crying she was running to where he was, panicked.

She rounded the corner and stopped short, worry turning into anger at the sight before her. A guard she hadn't seen before had her little prince held tight by the wrist, holding him in place while he spanked him fiercely. Loki was trying not to cry, trying to be brave, but she could see his arm was pulled painfully high, his wrist gripped painfully tight, and the guard didn't seem to care that he was hitting a three year old with what looked like the same force he would an adult.

“ **What** do you think you're **doing**?” Her voice rang out, clear and as controlled as she could make it through the corridor causing Loki and the guard to turn to face her. Loki struggled harder against the grip on his tiny wrist to reach her.

“What business is it of yours?” The guard barely glanced at her, a cruel sneer on his lips, and she realised as she watched him that his eyes were bright with something like glee, something she had seen before. He was enjoying inflicting pain on someone smaller and weaker than himself, someone defenseless. Her stomach turned and she took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“You must be new. This young boy is Loki, prince of Asgard and I am his nanny, Gylla.”

“The boy lacks discipline.” He jerked the little princes arm, making him yelp in pain, and Gylla fought the urge to burn the man where he stood.

“It is not your place to discipline him. Release him.”

“And if I do not? What will you do?” His eyes held a challenge, mouth twisting in a cruel smile, and she met it with a smile of her own. Stepping towards them she slowly reached out a hand, brushing her fingertips lightly against his temple. He cried out, jerking backwards and dropping Loki's wrist as pain seared through him. Loki took his moment of freedom and ran behind Gylla, hiding behind her skirt.

“If I ever see you near him againRegin you will truly know pain, do I make myself clear?”

“How do you know my name?”

“It was shown to me.” She smiled gently down at him, hiding her still present rage behind a mask of kindness. He glared back, face set, eyes promising that this wasn't the end, that he would return the pain she had caused him. Turning she took Loki's hand gently.

“Come now little prince, let's go and have a look at you.” Leading him back to his room she didn't look back at the guard, not wanting to see his face again, not needing to see his rage when she could feel it against her back like a wave.

“Loki, what happened to make that guard so angry?” She looked up at the little prince, hands wrapped loosely around his wrist as her healing magick flowed across his skin, soothing the pain.

“I made his hat a cat.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and she frowned at him, confused.

“Pardon?”

“I made his hat a cat.”

“While he was wearing it?”

“Yes.” She stifled a smile, completely able to picture the scene and finding it considerably more amusing than she should. She couldn't let Loki see that it made her laugh, it would only encourage him and she needed him to understand that doing things like that wasn't nice or fair.

“That wasn't very nice little prince. It might have scratched him.”

“It didn't!” His voice held a hint of outrage, as if the mere thought was insulting, and she fought back another smile.

“I know it didn't, but it might have. You can't do things like that, OK?”

“OK Gylla.” He looked down sadly, and she ruffled his hair gently. He meant well, nothing he did was malicious, but he was young and crossed lines without realising they were there. It was her job to make sure he knew right from wrong, regardless of who needed to be held up as an example.

“Now... What you did wasn't very nice, but that doesn't mean you deserved what he did to you. He had no right to hurt you, and I shouldn't have hurt him. That wasn't right of either of us. You shouldn't hurt people, no matter how mean they are, it just brings you down to their level.”

“Why did you?” He looked up at her, eyes questioning, trying to understand why a grownup would do something they knew was wrong, and she knew she could only answer him honestly.

“Because my little prince, he was hurting you, and I was scared and angry, so I lashed out. I shouldn't have, but I didn't want him to hurt you any more.” Her crawled into her lap, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her neck.

“I love you Gylla.”

“I love you too.”


	5. 04: Oil and Water.

The mood in the Great Hall was tense, even if it was relatively informal. Thor and Loki's tutor Was stood nervously in front of a seated Frigga and Gylla to discuss the problems he was having with Loki's lessons. Or, more specifically, with teaching Loki at all. It had become obvious to everyone involved that Loki was completely disinterested in learning to the point that he would turn random objects in the classroom into animals or make them disappear the second he decided that he had had enough. It was distracting for Thor, who generally enjoyed learning about the great wars and heroics, and drove their tutor to distraction. It was difficult enough teaching two greatly varied lessons at once, trying to keep thing appropriate for both childrens ages without adding in wrangling loose geese and rabbits that used to be pieces of teaching equipment, or working out how to turn a rosebush back into his chair. If bored enough Loki would simply sneak out of the room when his tutors back was turned and wander around the palace looking for something, or someone, to amuse himself with.

“Explain to me how you can fail to hold the attention of a young boy who has been known to find a bag of flour endlessly fascinating. Are you really so dull?” Frigga gave the increasingly terrified man a withering look, waving her hand to indicate for him to answer, quickly. He stuttered, trying to gather his thoughts, and Gylla pitied him. The full force of Friggas displeasure could mean the end of a very promising career for anyone it was turned to, and the love the populace had for her (she was a kind and generous woman when she was happy) was mixed with fear, something that didn't seem to phase the queen at all. In fact, Gylla had a sneaking suspicion she actually quite liked it.

“My queen, I have no trouble teaching Prince Thor, but Prince Loki just... He refuses to listen to me.” The man held his hands out almost pleadingly and the queen rolled her eyes with a small, but still audible, sigh.

“He is four. **Four.** Your job is to teach him, you should be able to control a young child, to not let him get the better of you.”

“My queen, he uses magick in his lessons.” Friggas eyes narrowed and her face hardened, mouth pulled into a thin line of displeasure and suppressed anger.

“So it is my sons fault that you seem incapable of doing your job?” Gylla watched as the colour drained from the mans face and his eyes widened. _Poor guy, he looks like he's about to pass out._ “You are making excuses, which I do not appreciate. You have one job, to teach my sons. If you cannot do that job to a satisfactory standard, I shall have you removed.”

“Yes, my queen. I shall do my best.” He bowed nervously, looking up at Frigga to try and gauge her mood. It wasn't a good one, for him at least. He's managed to annoy her more than she already was.

“Leave.” They watched the man practically run from the room in silence and when he was gone and the door had slammed shut behind him Frigga turned to Gylla with an exasperated look on her face. “Can you believe him? Blaming my son for his inability to do his own job. Terrible.”

“Unbelievable my queen.” Gylla kept her tone and face neutral, knowing that Frigga could have been talking to herself at that point. She watched as Frigga shook her head and adjusted her crown, before turning to face her with a questioning look in her eyes.

“Do you have problems with my son?” Gylla smiled wide, knowing she could answer questions like this honestly.

“He is mischievous and enjoys pranks, but he is no problem. Provided you have his interest.”

“As I thought. I believe the tutor is out of his depths.” Frigga nodded at her and stood, indicating for Gylla to follow, and made her way across the hall to a smaller set of doors that lead to the families “private” chambers. The fact that they were walking together could only mean that she wished to talk about Loki and his care, a subject Gylla was more than happy to discuss. She loved Loki like her own son, and would proudly talk about him for hours, praising each and every thing he did.

“Maybe. Or maybe he's not used to a spirited child like Loki. Perhaps my queen, Loki could be taught separately from Thor? The problem may be that he doesn't get the attention he needs or lessons that engage him while the tutor is split between the two. It's hardly like they're learning the same things given their ages. Loki is learning to write and read and count and spell, while Thor is learning... Whatever it is Thor learns. If Loki is bored he may be disruptive.” Frigga paused, considering her words, before filing them away for future reference with a small nod and starting forward again. She looked over at Gylla, considering her closely.

“Maybe. He shall have his chance. How are you finding my son?” Gylla smiled again, softly this time, and looked over at Frigga.

“He's a wonderful boy, full of interest and humour. Really, he's a joy to care for. There is never a dull moment my queen.”

“And his interests?”

“He wishes to be like his brother, but I feel that might not be his path. He wishes to fight like Thor, but shows little interest in actually fighting. He has a keen eye for plants and herbs, he'll be a fine healer, and even now his magick is strong, but it always has been. Animals interest him, especially horses, I think it would do him well to learn to ride as soon as he is able. He reads well and enjoys that. I think, in my opinion, he will be more studious than Prince Thor. As much as he wishes to be like his brother, the things that hold his attention are very different from those that hold Thors.” Frigga nodded at pondering her words, matching them to her knowledge of her youngest son. Gylla was right, she knew, that Loki idolised his brother, but they were very much two different people, that much was obvious to anyone, not just in their looks but their temperament. She liked the idea of getting Loki riding as soon as possible... While Thor could ride he preferred not to, claiming not to trust the horses not to throw him. She doubted Loki would have that fear.

“Yes. He is a quieter child than Thor was. And he sneaks.”

“Yes he does.” She smiled fondly. “I think he will be just as great as his brother given the chance, but in a different way. They are oil and water. Thor is loud and boisterous, Loki is quiet and careful. Thor rushes in without thinking, but Loki always has a plan. Together they can do great things, working with each others strengths.”

“Will he fight?” It was an odd question, they both knew it, but they also both knew it was an important one. A prince who didn't fight would be a laughing stock. No-one would take him seriously, especially if it was known he use magick. Given the realms views on men and magick, if Loki didn't fight the way men here did it would cast him completely as less than a man. While women were respected and revered, a man who acted like a woman would be seen as weak and a joke. That couldn't be the fate of a member of the royal family.

“Yes, if he must. But he probably wont enjoy it. He may grow to be very skilled at it, but passion? He probably wont have the same love for it as Thor.” It would pain Gylla to make Loki train to fight if he didn't enjoy it, but she knew he must, and if the look on Friggas face was anything to go by, none of them had much of a choice in the matter at all.

“I see. Well, a Prince must fight, if only to show solidarity for his men. Whether he enjoys that duty is another matter entirely. Given their ages, Thor will no doubt take the crown. He is the first born, and unless he is completely inept at the things a king must do he will be king one day. Loki would do well by his side, at his right hand. Every king needs a wise advisor. Someone to whisper warnings and offer carefully considered information. I hope that Loki will be that for his brother.” The were stood outside of the library, the women facing each other, and Gylla knew that their talk was over. Frigga had told her, in her round-a-bout way, what she expected from her youngest son, and Gylla would do her best to make sure her wishes were met. It shouldn't be hard, even at his young age Loki was sharper than most, she knew he would do well, but the knowledge that he would probably never be king, no matter how hard he tried, troubled her. That place had clearly been set aside for Thor, even if the boys didn't know it.

“Loki is shaping to be very wise indeed my queen and I have no doubt that he will do anything for his brother, and for the good of his kingdom and people.”

“I agree.” Frigga nodded once move before turning and entering the library, leaving Gylla stood alone in the corridor, wondering exactly what was next for any of them.


	6. 05: Brothers.

_Little brothers were really very annoying_ Thor thought, frowning as Loki tugged on the hem of his tunic, peering up at him with excitement. All he wanted to do was play with his friends, but for some reason Loki had decided to follow him around and get under his feet. He was eleven, basically a grown up, and he didn't have the time for the silly kid games five year old Loki would want to play. He had big plans with Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg... They were going to the woods to practice their fighting and snares and Loki wasn't allowed in the woods. Mother said he was too little and the woods were too dangerous, that only adults should be out there, and although Thor had a feeling she was including him in that warning too he considered himself old enough to be safe.

“Loki go away! I'm not playing with you today!”

“But Thor! You promised!” The younger boys voice held a touch of whine in it, his eyes suddenly sad. Had he promised to play with Loki today? He didn't think so, why would he? Loki liked colouring and playing with dolls, and that was boring child stuff, not adult stuff.

“I did not! Loki let _go_ of me!” He gave his brother a shove, not hard, but enough to send him stumbling to the floor. _Oh no..._ Loki looked up at him, distraught, tears welling in his eyes and his bottom lip trembling. He'd made Loki cry, and while he felt bad about it, at least it probably meant he'd leave him alone now. The others would be here soon and the last thing he wanted was for them to think he was a baby. He watched as his brother dragged himself to his feet.

“You're just as mean as the rest of them.” The words were almost a whisper, and Thor watched a tear slip from his brothers eye. He went to reach for him, to hug him, and his arm was moving to pull his brother close and apologise when the door at the other end of the room banged open. Both boys turned to see his friends come rushing in, laughing loudly. The four newcomers turned and noticed Thor & Loki, and Volstagg smirked.

“Look, it's little crybaby Loki!” His friends started laughing, taking turns in making fun of his little brother, and he laughed along with them, even if his heart wasn't in it. Loki wasn't a cry baby, not really, and he felt kind of bad for making fun of him, especially when he saw his face crumple, but he didn't want to look weak in front of his friends. Loki stood his ground for a while, not saying anything, just looking at them all with something close to disdain, before finally deciding that he'd had enough. Turning to leave he gave Thor a look of such deep sadness and disappointment that his stomach knotted, and he nearly reached out again to stop him, but quick as anything he was gone. Thor could never work out how he moved so fast.

Turning back to his friends he pushed thoughts of Loki from his mind, joining in excitedly with their conversation about all the things they were going to be able to do today without any parental supervision.

\---

Loki didn't tell anyone about Thor and his friends being mean to him, instead choosing to go straight to his room to draw something. He'd stopped telling after Fandral had called him a tattle tale after a particularly bad when day they'd been picking on him mercilessly and he'd tearfully told Gylla all about it. After calming him down and singing him his favourite song she'd disappeared, and he found out later she'd gone straight to where she knew the older children were playing and given them a lecture about being nice to people, telling them off. He wasn't angry that she'd done it, even if they had been mean to him about it afterwards, because he liked that she stood up for him, but they already called him a crybaby and he didn't want them calling him a tattle tale again as well.

He slipped some paper and pencils out from his desk and sits cross legged on the floor, thinking of what to draw. Maybe a picture for Father, but what would he like?

\---

They were half way to the woods when the image of Loki's face managed to slip back to the front of Thors mind, making him cringe. He was seeing that look more and more often on his little brothers face, that disappointment and sadness that cut him deep. He loved his brother, really, no matter how annoying he could be, and knowing that he had let him down and hurt his feeling made him feel terrible. _'You're just as mean as the rest of them' that's what he's said, and he was right._ Joining in when his friends made fun of Loki wasn't right, and he knew it. It wasn't Loki's fault he was so young and so... Different. Gylla had told him once that Loki couldn't help his love of magick, that it was a part of him buried deep in his heart and his soul, and he could understand that in a way. His love of fighting, his strength was the same way for him, that's what she'd told him. That deep down in their souls they had their strengths, and his strength was literal, while Loki's was magickal. _'Never underestimate the power of magick young Thor. Where I come from the skills of a sorcerer or a healer are held him higher regard than a simple warrior. Swords can only break, while magick can break and fix what is broken.'_

He didn't realise he'd stopped until Sif called out to him, asking him what was wrong, why had he halted, had he seen something?

“I have to return home!” He called, turning his horse around with less grace than he would have liked given his company.

“But why?” Fandral sounded confused, and really he had every reason to be. It wasn't like Thor to turn his back on the freedom they had stretching before them this afternoon.

“Because I made a promise.”


	7. 06: There Is Something In The Air.

The older Loki got the more she showed him about magick, small things, mainly to keep him out of trouble, but on his sixth birthday she decided he was old enough for lessons to begin in earnest. He needed to understand everything there was about magick so he could use it and control it, master it. He was strong, there was no doubt about that, and even in his untrained youth he'd been casting spells that older pupils would struggle with, but his strength came from the fact that magick ran through every part of him in a way it didn't with most people. It was in his bones, his blood, his skin. He practically pulsed with it, and he didn't have to dig into the air around him to gather the energies he needed, it was there, waiting, at his fingertips in much the same way it was for her. She wondered, briefly, if Frigga had known how powerful he would be and how powerful Gylla herself was when she took her in, matching their magick, anticipating the need for something with a different connection to magickal energies to teach her young son. It was a possibility, Frigga was smart and capable, and it wouldn't surprise Gylla the least to know that there was more under the surface of this family and the decisions made than met the eye.

They sat on the floor in Loki's bedroom, indian style, facing each other, and he looked up at her with the same wide eyed expression of awe and joy as he had every time they spoke of magick. This time would be different, this time she would really explain the best she could how about where magick came from, how it worked, and why it was easier for some than others to use it. She pursed her lips, trying to work out where to start, how to vocalise something she simply felt and knew, how to put into words the sheer awesome power that lay just a twitch of the fingers away.

“Where I come from, magick is celebrated and people that can use it are held in high regard as healers and sorcerers. There are schools that teach magick to those who have it in them to use it, and parents and children alike dream of being able to attend. Magick is in the air, always, everywhere, and some people have magick inside them, flowing through them like a river and they can feel it brushing across their skin like a tingle, or whisper, begging to be used. Others have to work to use it, but they have the gift in a way and with hard work they can become great, but never truly powerful. Other still cannot feel it at all, no matter how hard they search for it, they will never feel the tell tale whisper of magic on their skin. You are like the first group of people, you have magick inside of you. Close your eyes and hold out your hand little prince.” She watched him as he followed her instructions, brows furrowed in concentration. “What do you feel?”

“It feels like water.” She placed her hand on his, feeling the familiar tingle of his magick touching hers.

“And now?”

“It's like...” His face crinkled as he thought of a way to describe the sensation. “Rain on a lake.”

“Magick is different in each person, it feels different, works differently depending on their strengths. A healer friend of mine once told me that to her the magick in the air felt like long grass brushing against her skin. To me it feels like the air before a storm, charged, and for you it seems it feels like water. But you have it inside of you, in your soul, I knew it when I first started looking after you, I could feel the magick in you reacting with the magic in me.” His eyes flew open and he looked up at her, shocked and like he had just worked out the answer to a question that had been niggling at him for a while.

“I feel that too! Like... When you kiss my forehead or hold my hand. I didn't know what it was. It wasn't like this though.” His brows furrowed again as he compared the feeling of her hand on his now to how it normally felt. It was stronger, somehow, now than usual and it didn't make sense to him.

“That's because now you are focussed on it. Normally you have a million other distractions around you, smells, sounds, sights. You're not focussed on any one thing so it all blurs together in the background, but just like your other senses it's always there.”

“But what does it mean?”

“It means that if you work, and learn, and practice you will be a great sorcerer, powerful. Maybe you will excel in healing, or illusions, I don't know. We will have to see as we go where your natural strengths lay, but you will be brilliant and strong.” He frowned, mulling a thought over, and she waited patiently for him to speak, knowing the importance of hearing him out. If she listened to him she would be better equipped to teach him.

“Isn't magick for girls?”

“In this culture they choose to believe that, for some reason there are fewer people here who have the gift than where I am from and maybe that's why. Women often outnumber men in magick, but there is no shame in it. Magick is important, useful. It's there for you, just a breath away, but you have to learn how to use it and shape it and control it.” He nodded, and she could see him filing what she'd said away for future reference. He sat silently for a moment, thinking of which question to ask first, which thought was most important.

“What kind of things can you do?”

“Me? I can create some illusions, turn one thing into another, fix broken things, but my real power lays in the mind. If I choose to I can see into someone's mind, place thoughts or feelings there. If I wished I could cause someone pain, or joy, I could show them images in their mind or see things that they have seen.” She frowned, anticipating where the conversation would go, and he nodded gently, as if her response had answered a burning question he's been carrying. Which it probably had, now she thought about it.

“You did that to a guard once.”

“Yes.”

“You made him feel pain and you saw his name.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you do that to me?” He didn't look angry, or scared, simply curious, as if maybe if she had, and she told him when, he could pinpoint the experience and find out something useful from it.

“No my love, I have no need or wish to. Why would I want to cause you pain?”

“Have you looked into my mind?”

“No. I've never needed to, you have always told me exactly what I needed to know.” It was true, even as a baby she'd always known what he wanted without having to dip into his mind, he was always expressive and open, and as he grew he shared everything with her about his day, his fears, his hopes.

“Have you done it to anyone else?”

“No. I tend not to. It's rude to root around in someone's mind without their permission.” He nodded, face serious.

“Do you use your magick much?”

“Not as much as I used to. I use it to heal where I can, but generally I don't use it unless I absolutely must.”

“Why?” He seemed surprised at her answer, and she supposed that to him not using magick for everything seemed alien. She knew as soon as he started to gain a grasp on what he could do he would use it relentlessly. She'd been the same when she was young, but time had taught her restraint.

“Because magick is a gift and I don't like to waste it on things that don't require it. I treat it with reverence because it is something amazing that deserves my respect. There is less call for it's here, in what I do, so I do not use it much. Until now.”

“Why now?”

“Because now I'm going to teach you everything that I know. Some things I cannot do that you can, like teleportation, but you seem to have mastered that anyway so there isn't much there for me to teach.”

“Not that I can do it any more.” He indicated to the small bracelet he still wore with a frown, and she smiled kindly down at him.

“Maybe soon, when your father sees that you are better in control, he will allow it to be removed permanently. However, for our lessons, if needed, I will remove it. But I will have to put it back when we're done.” He nodded, excited at the prospect of being able to do something he loved, excelled at again. There was a freedom for him in teleporting, being able to go wherever he wanted in the blink of an eye. She could see how much he missed it in his eyes and was sorely tempted to allow him to do so now, but decided against it. Now wasn't the time to let him loose and lose his concentration, they had a lot to cover.

“Some people, those that don't have magick so strongly inside of them, have to speak incantations or spell runes with their fingers to draw the magick to them. You will find that you don't, not unless you are enchanting an object or casting a spell of great power. I will teach you the words and their meanings, and show you the runes, but really it is just a base for learning. You may some day need them, so better to know them than not.” He nodded, eyes on her hands as she stretched her fingers, calling to mind the most basic of rune shapes. “First I think I will teach you to call fire.”


	8. 07: Fret Not Little Prince.

The only sound she made as she found her way to him was a gentle rustle of skirts, different from the sound of his mothers approach or, if he was honest, any of the people of Asgard. He knew she only allowed the rustle so that she didn't startle anyone. How she was so silent he didn't know, but she had promised to teach him when he was bigger. He looked up at her smiling face, seeing the worry almost hidden in her eyes, and swiped half heartedly at the tears on his cheek. Only three people were allowed to see him cry, and two of those he wasn't entirely happy about, but she never made him feel small or weak for his tears. She sat on the floor beside him, reaching out to take his small hand him hers, running a thumb across his knuckles. He liked when she did that. He could feel the tingle of magick in her fingertips.

“Little Prince, why are you crying?”

“Thor's friends say that only women do magick. They say I'm a girl because I don't like to fight.” He sniffled, fresh tears sneaking from the corner of his eyes. He rememberedhowFandralhad laughed as he said it, voice cruel, before pushing him into the dirt. He hated his brothers friends sometimes, just because they were older than him didn't mean they could be so mean.

“And what says Thor?” Her voice was soft and gentle, full of care. She never raised her voice at him, but he'd heard her anger before, aimed in the direction of others, normally in defence of him. For him though there was only ever a kind soft voice, sometimes full of laughter, or edged with worry, or a hint of something that he knew meant someone was about to get a serious talking to. Now was one of those times, and he almost laughed at the idea of Thors friends at the receiving end of her wrath. They wouldn't stand a chance.

“He laughed with them.”

“I see. Well, my little Prince,” She lifted him easily into her lap and he didn't argue, he liked being close to her because it made him feel safe and loved, and normally meant a story or magick tricks would follow. She gently wiped the tears from his cheek with the pad of her thumb. “one day they will find they have more need of your magick than they do their own swords.”

“But is it true, that only girls do magick?”

“No more so than thinking that only men fight, has young lady Sif not shown that women can be warriors too?” He gave it some thought. Sif was turning into a fine fighter, strong and fast, but a warrior? He knew she wanted to be one, wanted to ride into battle with Thor when they were old enough, fight side by side with her dearest friend. Maybe Gylla was right. Maybe Sif would be a warrior.

“I suppose.”

“Then you can show that men can do magick. Trust me, little prince, there is no shame in the things you are good at. You have a fine brain, and strong magick in your heart. That makes you just as important as any warrior.”

“I just want to be like them.” He stared at his hands, frowning. Well, part of him wanted to be like them, to fit in to their group, to be their friend, but part didn't. He didn't want to be mean like they could be, he saw how they talked down to people that they thought weren't as good as them and he didn't want to be that, he knew how it felt to be spoken to like you didn't matter. If he could be kind like Gylla, and they could too, then they could be friends and that would be nice. Maybe, if Gylla was right, then one day they would respect his magick and they could all be friends and go into battle together, even though he didn't like fighting, and drink together at feasts like he saw other groups of warriors do, laughing and telling stories of victory and near misses. He was good at telling stories, Thor always told him so, but he could hardly tell of adventures he had no part in. Maybe, he thought miserably, he should try to like fighting after all.

“Now, hush. You are you, and that is exactly what you were meant to be. No more, no less.”

“But why am I not like Thor?” They didn't even look the same, he knew. Thor blonde haired and blue eyed with skin that turned dark in the sun, while he was dark haired and green eyed with pale skin that never changed colour at all, unless he blushed, or got angry, when his cheeks would turn bright red. Everyone saw it, he knew, and everyone wondered about it, he knew that too because he heard them talking when they thought no-one of any importance could hear them.

“Because we certainly do not need more than one Thor running around the castle.” She smiled kindly at him, and he returned it with a watery smile of his own, leaning his head against her chest. “You are perfect as you are my little prince. Now, have you been practising your spells?”

“Yes Gylla.”

“Show me something, I always enjoy your tricks.” He grinned, knowing the words to be true, and unpinned a simple wooden brooch from her clothes, laying it flat in his empty palm. He had given her this very brooch for her birthday and she had worn it proudly every day since. He thought for a minute about what he should do before waving his free hand over it and looking up to watch her reaction. The brooch shifted, slowly at first but quicker, it's careless loops twisted around themselves, growing and changing until in the palm of his hand he held three small grass snakes. She clapped her hands together and let out a delighted laugh before carefully touching a snake, feeling it's soft scales as it moved under her fingers.

“Wonderful! Oh you are very talented little prince, very talented indeed. One day soon I think you'll be better than me!” He grinned proudly up at her and she placed a soft kiss against his forehead. He would never admit it to anyone, but Gylla felt like home, and when he let his mind wonder he often found himself wishing that she was his mother instead of just his nanny. She was always proud of him, and interested in what he thought, and she always managed to find him no matter where he hid to be angry or upset by himself, and then cheer him up or calm him down. She was his best friend, really, even if she was a grown up and he loved her, would tell her all of his secrets and worries, except that sometimes, if he let his mind wonder, he wished she was his mother.


	9. 08: Rage Like A Storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is mythology inspired, although of course it's different in it's way from the original mythos to fall in line with Marvel canon. I did find myself very confused with dwarves so I just... Mashed it into something that made sense to me. Apparently people just don't agree about who did what.

Sif was Thor's girlfriend. They'd started courting about two months before, and Loki had expected it to fizzle out almost as soon as it had begun in the same way Thor's romantic relationships generally did, but it became obvious that they were to be getting closer and closer, their relationship going from strength to strength, and he found that he didn't like it. Not one single bit. He was jealous of the amount of time Thor spent with her now, outside of the normal time he spent with his friends. It was cutting into the time he could spend with his brother, and he felt more left out than ever. Granted, he didn't particularly _like_ any of them, they were mean, but he still wanted to be part of their group, to hang out with them and be as good at things as they were, but he wasn't and now they'd taken something else away from him. Or at least, she had, Sif, with her stupid hair and stupid smile and stupid face and stupid being one of the best fighters in Asgard despite the fact she was a woman. It wasn't fair. Thor didn't have any time for him at all now, it was always _'I cannot brother, Sif and I have plans.'_ or _'I cannot brother, I have plans with Sif and the warriors three.'_ and he was left on his own. He hated all of them, but he hated Sif the most. Just because she was pretty and had lovely hair and was a brilliant fighter didn't mean she could take everything from everyone.

Which was one explanation for why he was stood over Thors bed watching Sif sleep. Well, not watching her sleep in a creepy sense, there was a plan, he wasn't just moon-eyed staring at her like she was anything special. Because she wasn't. He'd have to be careful... He still couldn't teleport so he'd have to sneak back out of the room the way he'd come in when he was done, which was risky, someone might see him, but he was good at sneaking. He should be OK. She looked so peaceful, innocent, while she was sleeping. Not at all like the cruel siren she was when she was awake. It was stupid, really, but seeing her like this was almost enough to change his mind. Almost. He inched closer, being careful to stay completely silent (something he'd learned from watching Gylla), deciding how to make his move. It was imperative that this was perfect. He wouldn't get a second chance.

\---

The scream ripped through the castle, high and frantic and angry, and Loki smirked from the safety of his bedroom. Mission accomplished, and while he knew he'd never get away with it, that soon enough Thor would work out it was him, he couldn't help feel proud that he'd even managed to pull it off in the first place. Gylla looked up from her knitting, brows drawn in a frown, and he carefully arranged his features in an equally confused and slightly worried look. It wouldn't do to give the game away so completely, especially not so soon.

“What in Niflheim was that?” She pushed her knitting to the floor and stood to leave when an angry roar cut through the air. Ah. Thor was now abreast of the situation.

“ **BROTHER!** ” Thors footsteps thundered down the corridor leading from his bedroom to Loki's, and unless he was mistaken, Sif was following quickly behind him, if the light patter of bare feet on wood and sniffling whimpers were anything to go by. Warrior indeed. He looked up to see Gylla staring at him with quirked eyebrows and her mouth drawn in a tight line. She knew him better than to try and pretend he didn't know what was happening, no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise she'd see through him. He had never been able to lie to her.

“Little prince, now would be a really good time to tell me what's going on.”

“I think you'll see for yourself soon enough Gylla.”

“I've never heard him this angry at you before.” He grinned up at her, eyes bright.

“That's because I've never done anything like this before.” The door flew open with a bang, and there stood Thor, anger making him seem bigger than he was. Of course, he was bigger than most fourteen year olds to start with, but in that moment he seemed to fill the doorway, face bright red. He could just about see Sif looking up over his brothers shoulder, eyes bright with tears and hurt, and he stifled the grin he felt rising. It would hurt his case to laugh at her right now.

“Brother, why did you do it?” Thor didn't enter, for which Loki was slightly grateful, he was intimidating enough where he stood.

“Do what?”

“You know very well what, don't try and lie to me.”

“I have done many things today brother.” Thor snarled and reached behind him, pulling Sif out to stand in view, still in her nightclothes, dishevelled and trembling. Where there had once been long, thick brown hair that fell past her waist in a braid, there was only a short, spiked mess of hair cut a few inches from her scalp. It was all gone, all of her hair, and annoyingly enough it suited her just as well in an elfin way. Gylla gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth, and looked over at Loki as he stared stonily at his brother and Sif.

“You cut off her hair. I know it was you. Why?”

“It suits you Sif.” Thor let out a growl and faster than anyone expected crossed the room to where Loki stood and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him from the floor.

“You will fix this brother, or I will beat you until your bones are dust, do you understand me?” This wasn't the reaction Loki had been expecting. Anger, yes, but a rage so great as to threaten him in this way? Never. Which meant, as much as he hated to even consider it, Thor cared deeply for Sif, maybe even loved her, and there was only one way to escape this unscathed. Find Sif new hair. He nodded as best he could with Thors hand around his neck, and his brother replied in kind before releasing him and letting him fall to the floor in a heap. Gylla watched, mouth gaping, silently as Thor stormed from the room, Sif close to his heel. If there was one thing she knew it was that facing an angry Thor these days tended not to work out very well for most people involved. He raged like a storm. She knelt quickly beside Loki, pushing his hair out of his face and looking him over with careful eyes as he rubbed at his sore throat.

“Are you well?”

“Yes. Just.”

“Loki, whatever possessed you to cut off Sif's hair?”

“I don't like her very much.” She raised an eyebrow and smirked, answering only with a little mumbled grunt, which Loki didn't like either. It implied she knew something that he didn't, or at least thought she did, and it unsettled him. “Gylla... I need to find her new hair...” She snorted, cutting him off mid sentence, and he frowned at her as she spoke.

“Oh no, no. You are on your own on this one little prince. You made this bed, now you have to sleep in it.”

“Please?” He pulled out his best sad face, pouting pathetically at her, and he watched as her face softened, although her eyes told him she wasn't at all happy about his blatant manipulation. She couldn't help herself though.

“You'll need to talk to Dvalin, one of the Sons of Ivaldi. He can make anything, he madeGungnir. If anyone can help you it's him.”

“Thank you Gylla.”

“Just promise me you'll be a little more sensible in future, OK?”


	10. 09: You Are Different, Not Wrong.

Loki could fight. He didn't like it, and he didn't fight the same way as Thor and his friends, but he had found an area of skill in combat that he'd never expected to have. While Thor and the others used swords, Loki found throwing knives and a bow and arrow to be more his speed. Of course, no matter how good he was at it, it wasn't considered the same, and while he could swing a sword well enough if needed, the fact that his skill lay in distance fighting was another mark against him as far as Lady Sif and the Warriors Three were concerned. A name now used by everyone, not just Thor. They looked down on the fact that it would keep him somewhat out of the mêlée, a safer distance than the rest, and even if he somehow found himself in the midst of battle, in the centre of the fray, it would still be seen as lesser by them he knew. Maybe they thought little knives were less manly than their swords, although what they could possibly have against a bow and arrow were beyond him. Maybe he would never be good enough for them, no matter what he tried?

After the hair incident, and a few minor pranks that had been taken entirely the wrong way over the last year, Loki was now banned from being alone around Sif, and even with other people there he had to keep his distance. Which seemed like an over reaction to him, but Thor insisted, and Loki rather enjoyed his bones staying in one piece, so he complied. He'd yet to work out quite what Thor saw in Sif, because despite her obvious attractiveness she was pretty dull, but to each their own he supposed. Eyeing his target Loki took aim, pulling back his hand before letting the knife fly towards the dummies heart. It was a simple flick of the wrist more than anything else that kept his blades true, and while some people insisted he manipulated them with magick, in truth he had never needed to. Another three knives found their mark before Loki took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“You have a good eye, prince.” He didn't turn at the sound of the deep voice that echoed through the practice range, he didn't need to to know who was speaking to him. It was a voice that everyone on Asgard knew well. The voice of warning.

“Thank you Heimdall.”

“A good hand too. You would make a useful addition to battle.” It was strange how praise came from the most unexpected places. Heimdall was the last person he had thought would be telling him he was doing well, which made it all the more meaningful. It seemed true, coming from someone like him.

“Perhaps you can convince others of that fact.”

“They have never been at war, they do not know what is really needed. Their opinions don't matter.”

“They matter to them, and to the people that look up to them.” He didn't want to sound childish or petulant, but the truth was that people judged him and found him lacking simply because Thor's friends did, and Thor himself didn't disagree. They were the golden group, and their word was law, especially to those younger than them. Asgard held them in high regard.

“That is true. You are different from most prince Loki, better to embrace that difference and succeed than to try and fit in and fail.” It sounded like something Gylla would say to him when he bemoaned not being more like his brother, and he smiled. Two people told him his difference was something to be celebrated, and only one of them he expected it from. Maybe they were right. Maybe he shouldn't try so hard to be like Thor, and instead try to be the best him he could be. There was only one Loki after all.

“Maybe.”

“No maybe about it. The world is full of swordsmen, it needs more men who can throw knives.” Loki turned to face the watchman, only to find him gone. Had he been there at all, or had his deep voice simply been a figment of his imagination? Their fates were tied, he knew that much, but he didn't know how. As such, Heimdall would appear randomly, as if he was inspecting him. It was strange, but reassuring at the same time. He didn't want to think about what it would mean the day he stopped. He strode across the range to collect his knives ready to throw again when the door behind him opened with a bang. He turned and saw Thor, Sif and The Warriors Three enter, which meant it was his cue to leave. They didn't really want him in here with them any more than he wanted to be there. They were laughing loudly about something to do with a hunt they had been on, and Loki quickly pulled his knives free of the dummy before they spotted him and made any sarcastic comments. He really wasn't in the mood for it. He just wanted some peace and quiet.

He returned to his room having managed to slip out of the range unnoticed, and quietly settled in the chair in the corner with a book of spells to read and wile away the time. Gylla had sourced books on magick from all over the nine realms to make sure he had the best education he could get on an art that was severely under practised in Asgard. Despite his youth most of the practitioners weren't half as good as he was, which left only Gylla and his father to really teach him in a hands on way. Gylla was strangely absent, she could normally be found here even when he wasn't busying herself with something or other, as if she was waiting to be needed. He liked knowing where he could find her, and the fact that she wasn't knitting in the rocking chair on the other side of the room, a relic from when he was a baby, knitting or darning socks or reading a book was disconcerting. He didn't like it at all, even though he knew there was nothing to be concerned about. She hadn't gone. He was always afraid she would go though, in the back of his mind. That maybe one day she would grow tired of him and leave without a word, and he would be lost and alone in a place that should feel like home, but somehow always made him feel like a stranger. It was stupid, really, to worry. She told him every day that she loved him like her own son, and she did everything she could to help and protect him, but he wasn't her son and that meant that she could stop loving him and leave. He buried his head in his book, trying to memorise the runes to call a double of himself. He could do it without he knew, but knowing the very basics was important. A solid foundation.

“Little prince! You're back early! You said you would be practising for two hours, you have only been gone for one.” He looked up to see Gylla stood in the doorway, two large balls of deep green yarn in her hands.

“Thor and his friends arrived so I left. They're still mad about the snakes.” She smiled as she made her way over to her chair and placed one of the balls into her knitting bag before drawing out her chunkiest needles.

“Well, generally people don't appreciate it when their food turns into snakes while they're eating it. You could try not playing pranks on them. It might help.” She cast on, her eyes on her yarn, and he smiled somewhat sadly at her. This was a conversation they'd had more than once, and while they both understood the others position, it didn't mean she wouldn't bring it up when the situation presented itself. She was looking out for him.

“They don't like me, I hardly imagine being nice to them all the time will help any. I'm not as good as they are, and they've always treated me that way, long before the tricks. At least this way they have an actual reason to dislike me.”

“You have a strange way of looking at things my love. But maybe you're right. Some people will always dislike others regardless of what happens. Have you at least made you peace with Thor?” She looked up, meeting his eyes, no longer needing to keep a keen eye on her knitting, and he nodded.

“Yes. I think he understands as much as he ever will why I do what I do, although that doesn't mean he likes it.”

“I suppose that's better than nothing. He loves you, regardless of all of this.” They smiled at each other, before returning their attention back to their tasks.

“I know.”


	11. 10: It Started With A Book.

It wasn't unusual to see young girls walking around the palace with arms full of laundry or trays of food & drink, they often came to work along side their mothers as maids or cooks, but it was unusual for Loki to find one stood in his bedroom with a basket full of carefully folded clothes staring at his book shelves. She didn't seem to hear the door open, and he watched her carefully as she reverently ran her fingers across the spines of his personal collection, her lips slightly parted, eyes wide. She was older than him, maybe thirteen, with long tightly curled brown hair that managed to create a halo of ringlets around her head despite being tied back in a bun, and pale skin with a smattering of light freckles across her nose and cheeks. She wore the uniform of the staff, a dark green dress made out of a course wool, a white pinafore, and flat black shoes, so he knew she wasn't a random interloper, but why she was stood there blatantly not doing her job was beyond him. It was impertinent, frankly, but in the face of her wide eyed wonder at the books in front of her he couldn't seem to bring himself to make a sound. Carefully, without taking her eyes from the shelves, she placed her basket on the floor and gently lifted a green bound book from it's place, opening it and running her fingertips across the first page like she was stroking a childs hair.

“You know it's generally considered rude to touch another persons belongings without their permission.” She jumped, spinning around to face him, face full of shock and fear, book clutched to her chest. He felt a smug sense of satisfaction a having startled her, but at the same time guilty for so obviously scaring her. He didn't really want her to be like everyone else here his age, either laughing at him or too nervous to look at him.

“Prince Loki!” She looked down at the book she was holding as if she'd only just realised it was there, blushing furiously. “I'm so sorry, it won't happen again, I never should have... I... Please don't take my job, I didn't mean any harm.”

“Were you going to take it?” He kept his arms folded across his chest, watching her closely. She didn't look up, wouldn't look at his face, meet his gaze.

“Pardon?”

“Were you going to take it with you when you left?” She shifted nervously from foot to foot and snuck a glance up to look at him only to find his face impassive, gaze hard, and darted her eyes back to the floor. He knew he was making her uncomfortable and he didn't want that, but at the same time he needed to know just what she was doing in his room holding his copy of 'Midgardian Religion and Mythology' like it was a life raft.

“No! No, not at all! You... I... No.” She stuttered nervously when she spoke, tripping over her words and he stepped into the room, face softening as he watched her. She seemed harmless enough, nice even, if a bit unusual. She was new to the palace, that much he could tell from how nervous and unsure she was. Anyone who'd worked at the palace for a while had a different air about them, one of purposeful deference.

“You're strange.” He muttered, amused and her head snapped up and she stared at him, a hint of annoyance in her eyes at the insult. He smiled, and she studied his face, trying to work out if he was being cruel before replying.

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“No.” He shrugged, why would he? She hadn't actually done anything wrong as far as he was concerned, so what was there to tell? She looked at some books, it was hardly a big deal.

“Thank you.”

“You can borrow it if you like. As long as you bring it back when you're done.” He waved his hand to the book she still held tight to her chest and she looked down at it in shock, as if she had forgotten she was even holding it.

“Oh, thank you, but no. I can't.” She held the book out to him with a sad frown, and he shook his head.

“Yes you can, I just said you could. It's _my_ book I'll lend it to whoever I want.”

“No, I mean...” She blushed, avoiding his gaze again, and he frowned wondering what on earth she was going to say. What reason she could have for refusing his offer when she was so clearly interested in the book in question. “I can't because I can't read.”

“You can't read?”

“No. Well, a few simple words to help with my job but not really. I couldn't read a book.” She continued avoiding looking at him, shuffling her feet with embarrassment written across her face.

“Then why were you looking at them like you were dying of thirst and they were a stream?”

“Just because I can't do something doesn't mean I don't want to. Books... They're full of knowledge and stories and adventures and things I'll never see or know or experience. Books are like magick.”

“Well... You'd never be able to start with that one anyway. You need something simpler.” She looked at him, confusion written across her face as he took the book out of her hand and placed it back on the shelf, reaching up to a higher one and pulling another book down, this one brightly coloured with a cheerful woodland scene on the front. “It's really complicated. This one though, this is one of the first books I read when I was learning.” He held the book out to her with a tiny twitch of a smile on his lips, but she just stood, staring at him like he was a madman. _This is really strange. Move._

“What are you doing?”

“I'm trying to lend you a book.” She blinked at him, confused, one side of her her mouth turned down. Was it really that unusual for someone in this place to do something nice? Or was it just him? Did he have a reputation as a rude person? He hoped not, because he really wasn't, and the idea that maybe she's been told that he was horrible bothered him more than it probably should. He didn't want her to hate him.

“But you don't know me.”

“No, I don't, but that doesn't mean I cant do something nice, does it?” _Take the book, just take the book. Please._ His arm stayed outstretched, book held loose in his fingertips, and he watched her as she watched him with slightly scared eyes, nervous.

“I guess not.”

“What is your name?” She reached out slowly and slipped the book from his hands, looking at the cover with undisguised interest before holding it to her chest and smiling widely at him. Which he took to mean she'd decided he wasn't evil or terrible, that he might actually be nice and not trying to get her in trouble somehow.  

“Aya.” At that moment, because her timing was impeccable, the door swept open to show Gylla stood in the doorway, balancing a pile of books in one hand. At the sight of her Aya let out a small squeak of shock, and with the book held tight to her chest, raced out of the room as if the room was on fire. As she rushed past Gylla the woman looked up in shock, books wobbling precariously in her hand, before turning her confused gaze to her charge.

“What was that all about?” He shrugged at her, just as confused as she was by the turn of events and silently cursing her for interrupting and clearly scaring Aya into leaving. 

“I have no idea...”

\---

There was a knock on his door, and he looked up from the book in his hands, frowning. It was late, and no-one really called for him unless he was needed to do something prince-y, so who could possibly be at the door? He glanced at Gylla dozing in her chair, knitting on her lap, before calling out softly.

“Yes?” The door slowly opened and Aya's face appeared in the growing crack. She smiled softly at him, less nervous than she looked earlier.

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” He sat up a little straighter as she entered, the book she'd taken before she ran off earlier held reverently in her hands.

“I'm having a little trouble and I wondered, if it wasn't completely out of line and if it is I apologize, but would you be able to help me?”

“Help you with what?”

“The words... I, well...” She looked over to her side and spotted Gylla, freezing.

“What? What's wrong?”

“Her... I've heard she's very... Protective... I don't want to get into trouble being here.” Gylla let out a little snort in her sleep making Aya jump nervously, and her head lolled back causing Loki to giggle at the absurdity of it all. Right now Gylla was the least threatening thing in the whole of Asgard, and the fact that Aya was scared of her was something he couldn't really understand. It was _Gylla_ , she was a teddy bear. Generally.

“Do you mean me harm?” She looked at him like he'd grown an extra head and he rolled his eyes. It wasn't that strange of a question considering her previous statement.

“No.”

“Then you're fine. Come, sit.” He waved his hand in the direction of a stool near his chair and she quickly slipped into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her, and sat down, shuffling closer to him. “What did you need help with?”

“The words... I mean I know some of the letters and sounds but... I don't know most of them. I've been trying but it doesn't make sense to me, or sound right.”

“Well you've only just started learning, it's bound to be confusing, especially considering the fact that in general it's a very complicated language with lots of rules and silent letters and things that don't really make sense.” He gestured as he spoke, happy to be talking to someone about something he actually cared about for a nice change, even if she didn't really understand it right now. Because she would, he would help her to understand it all and be able to enjoy reading as much as he did, and then maybe he'd have someone else to talk to about books.

“That's reassuring, thank you.” She rolled her eyes at him, sarcastic, and he grinned cheekily back at her, making her smile.

“Better to know at the start. Maybe a letter book would help... I probably still have one, Gylla hates throwing things like that away...” He stood and made his way to the bookshelf, searching the top rows where the books he first read and learned to read with were kept for what he was looking for. He found it nestled between two of his favourite picture books and pulled it free, turning to Aya with a proud smile, waving the book lightly. “We should probably start at the very start. You wont be able to read anything if you don't know all of your letters.”

“I feel really stupid.” She sighed heavily and he shook his head as he made his way back over to his seat.

“You shouldn't. It's not your fault no-one ever taught you. And you have a chance to learn, which makes you less stupid than people who don't even bother at all.”

“I suppose so.”

“Don't suppose, believe. What good would it do me to lie about it?”

\---

Gylla had woken up about half way through their “lesson”, and with no more than an introduction to Aya and a reminder to Loki that he had homework due in the morning she more or less left them to get on with it. Who was she to stand in the way of her little prince making friends, regardless of their station, and if the jokes and smiles and giggles were anything to go by they were certainly getting on like a house on fire. In fact, if she had to hazard a guess, she'd say that Loki probably had a crush growing, which was completely adorable. Complicated, but adorable. She wondered briefly what Frigga would say if she could see her youngest clumsily flirting with the young girl before pushing the thought roughly away. She knew exactly what she'd say, and it wouldn't be a good thing. She'd be horrified. It was a little while after Aya had left, while Loki was sat at his desk under the guise of doing his homework, that he broke the comfortable silence.

“Gylla.” She looked up from her book at the sound of his voice to find him staring at her, a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes little prince?”

“I think I'm in love.” He said it in a whispery sigh and she grinned at the blissful look on his face, dreamy eyed and smiling like everything had fallen into place and he'd seen the beauty of the world.

“Really? So soon?”

“Yes. She's wonderful.” He turned back to his work, proud to have said it, glad to know that Gylla was happy for him. He could see it on her face and in her eyes, that what he said made her happy. It was the same smile as when he showed her a new spell he'd learned or when he'd told her about Heimdall telling him he was just as important as Thor and his friends.

“She seems lovely dear, she really does.”

“I'm going to see her again tomorrow.”  
“I'm glad.”

“Gylla?” He looked back over his shoulder at her as a thought occurred to him. It was pretty important that he said it, that she saw how important it was.

“Yes dear?”

“Don't tell anyone, OK?”

“I wont. You have my word.” She smiled softly at him as he nodded and went back to his work. So sad that he seemed to know without being told that his friendship wasn't something that should be known, that it would probably get people, himself included, in trouble. She would keep his secret, because it wasn't doing anyone any harm and it was so nice to see him so happy, and if push came to shove she would defend her actions as the right thing to do, because it was. For Loki and probably Aya too.


	12. 11: For The Best.

There were lots of things about her job that she enjoyed, loved even, but at the same time there were things she couldn't stand, some of which were the rules surrounding who the princes could and could not socialise with. Fraternising with palace staff was frowned upon, and while that was fine for Thor who easily made friends with the sons and daughters of high ranking members of the realm and fit quite comfortably into the 'Prince' 'Servant' roles, Loki struggled to connect with people close to his stature and couldn't bring himself to treat the staff as if they were below him. She was proud of him for that, but knew in her heart that any friends he made in the staff could never be his friends publicly. Which is why, even though she knew the trouble she could get in if she was caught, she helped the prince hide his friendship with the young maid Aya. Of course the pair of them didn't make it easy and the amount of close calls with Frigga or Thor walking in on them spending time together gave her palpitations. They'd be the death of her they really would.

Loki had spent the morning in Ayas company, and as such was buzzing with a nervous energy unique to times just before or just after he saw her. He spoke a million miles a minute about everything they had said and done, repeating each conversation word for word in a breathy voice that she was growing more and more used to hearing from him. He was completely smitten, and if what she'd seen so far was any indication, so was Aya. It warmed her heart to finally see him so happy, full of a boundless energy, which was nice, even if the excess energy often meant his pranks were more elaborate and left a grumbling mass of staff around the palace. Everyone saw the change in him, saw how much brighter and more cheerful he was, and even those at the receiving end of his tricks found that they couldn't stay mad at him for too long. He wasn't trying to be like his brother anymore, he wasn't living in Thors shadow, he was becoming himself and enjoying who he was. He was accepted, and so he accepted his own worth.  

They made their way through the palace, the air around them filled with Loki's chatter.

“Gylla where are we going?” He peered up at her, confused to notice they'd made their way to the more formal, public part of the palace, a far cry from where they spent the vast majority of their time.

“Your mother wishes to see you.”

“But Gylla, we're going the wrong way! This isn't the way to mothers study or even the gardens!” He frowned up at her, lips pursed and eyebrows wrinkled, looking at her like she'd lost her mind and she chuckled lightly, ruffling his hair.

“She wanted to see you in the great hall little prince, which is where we're going.” He considered what she said for a moment, frown twisted in contemplation before nodding slowly and taking her hand.

“Oh. OK. Well... Why does she want to see me there? We only go there to greet guests or for important occasions.” It was a good question, but she didn't have an answer for him and hoped against hope that it wasn't for something official, his parents were busy enough with their schedules without that kind of thing spilling into the quality time they spent with the boys.

“I don't know my love, I just know you're spending time with your mother and I'm to take you to the great hall.”

“I hope it wont be boring. Normally when we're in the great hall it's boring.”

“Little prince, please... I'm sure it will be fun, just like normal. Don't fret on where it is, that's of little importance.” They walked in silence for the rest of their short journey, and soon enough found themselves outside of the back entrance to the Great Hall, both feeling a little bit uncomfortable, even if they couldn't quite place why. She pushed open the door gently and they both peered into the room, interested in seeing what was ahead. _Oh, my little prince, I'm sorry. I was wrong._ Sitting off to one side of the room around a relatively small table and chairs were Frigga, a man and a woman that Gylla recognised as members of a rather well off house, and their young daughter. She doubted very much that Loki would be spending much time with his mother, and her stomach sank at the thoughts of what was going on. Some kind of friend intervention perhaps? He looked up at her with a disappointed frown and she smiled weakly at him.

“Sorry...” Frigga looked up at the quiet sound of her voice, her face painted with a very regal public smile.

“Loki! My son, come in, please, I have someone for you to meet.” He nodded and complied, albeit slowly and with less enthusiasm than probably required. Frigga looked back at Gylla, her smile a little bit harder, less welcoming, and she knew she was in trouble. “Gylla, I wish to speak to you later. I will come and find you.” Her cue to leave, and to be ready in Loki's room for a talking to when the queen was done here. She bowed slightly and closed the door quietly, hoping against hope that whatever was going on Loki would at least enjoy himself. 

\---

She was carefully folding and putting away Loki's laundry when Frigga found her, and once again she was taken aback by the woman that she knew as queen... So different to the woman the people and her own family knew. Cunning, sharp and ever so dangerous, especially when it came to her family. Frigga eyed her carefully, mouth set in a hard line, eyes cold.

“I have arranged for Loki to have playdates with one of the young children from court... A good family, appropriate I think for his station too. They will play three times a week.” She nodded at the words, part of her having known they were coming and dreading it, dreading this entire conversation. A play date meant that Frigga knew about Aya and didn't like it one bit, which meant trouble for everyone involved. It also meant that whoever this girl was, she probably hadn't been chosen for attributes that would help her bond with the prince, more for who she was, which lead to the possibility that Loki would hate every second of their forced time together.

“Yes my queen.”

“A much smarter match than a maid.” Friggas eyes narrowed and Gylla avoided looking at her face, instead choosing to study her feet. This was the crux of the matter, and also a warning. Frigga knew everything, and she would only stand for things she didn't agree with for so long. She'd had enough of waiting for Loki to grow bored of playing with the help, and not trying to befriend people more suitable, so she had taken matters into her own hands.

“Of course my queen.”

“I am hopeful that maybe they will grow close, and Loki can have in her what Thor has in Sif. A companion, love, a closeness... Someone to rely on and lean on. Our two families together would work very well. A very smart match.”

“Of course.”

“Make sure she's aware of this.” Gyllas eyes snapped up to meet Friggas, stomach dropping. “I would hate for her to lose her job because she cannot understand a simple order. She is not to see my son. Have her reassigned so she isn't working in the same part of the palace as his room.” It wasn't said maliciously, far from it in fact, Frigga actually sounded somewhat concerned, but the threat was there. If Aya and Loki spent time together Aya would lose her job, and other than her friendship with the prince her job was the only things Aya had... It gave her a home, a type of family, fed her. She didn't have family, not really. And it was left to Gylla to explain to a young girl that she can no longer see the boy she is 'in love' with because if she does she will be fired. It wasn't an experience she was rushing to have.

“Yes. Of course... I'll make sure she knows.”

“You're lucky Gylla, that I'm feeling rather generous today. I should have your job. Remember your place... You are just the help, nothing more. I am Loki's mother, I decide what is best for him.” She watched Frigga pick up a tunic, turning it gently over in her hands before folding it neatly with an air of casualness that didn't match the knife edge buried in her words. It was more obvious than the warnings most people who displeased her received, but said in the same conversational and kind tone of voice that hid it's unhappiness a few layers deep. A way of making a threat that to anyone listening in might not sound much like a threat at all.

“Of course... Thank you for your kindness.”

“You're dangerous Gylla... You grow more so the older my son gets. I will be watching you closely.”

“As you wish.”

“You remind me very much of myself you know... You always fight fiercely for those you love, you'd do anything to protect my son from harm, I see that. You follow what you think is right, regardless of the consequences. You would do well in the courts here, be quite powerful I imagine, if only life had dealt you a different hand. I image we could have been friends... Allies. Never forget your place here Gylla, or who let you in to our world, and who can remove you from it.” She did see what Frigga meant... To an extent. That they were both strong and wilful, they would both stop at nothing to make sure they had done the best they could, although she couldn't help but think that Frigga was thinking less of what was best for her son and more what was best for the name of the family and appearances. It was always about appearances in the end, and Frigga was an expert at making sure everything looked exactly the way it should. How many people really knew what went on in her head, what motivated her and her decisions? Probably only Frigga herself, if Gylla was honest about it. She took a deep breath and met Friggas gaze steadily, readying herself to say something that would probably be taken as insolent, but needed to be said.

“He was happy you know... Really, truly happy with her.”

“I know. But this is for the best. He is different enough as it is Gylla, without adding to it. He has to do these things to be accepted. He must be accepted as a prince and a leader, not a strange boy who shuns his responsibilities and flies in the face of the rules. It is for his own good.” And she knew she believed it, meant it completely. She was afraid of Loki being shunned by the people for being too different, and would do whatever she could to make sure that didn't happen, that he did what was expected of him so that he could fit in. There was a fear there, the same fear that Gylla saw every time Frigga spoke of Loki being different, and that fear was her motivator. Fear of what Gylla didn't know, and probably never would. Loki wasn't _that_ different, not really, not enough to make his mother worry so, but worry she did.

“Of course. I understand.” And she did, to an extent. As much as she was allowed.

\---

“I **hate** her!” Loki threw himself dramatically on his bed, beating his fists against the covers and kicking his legs dramatically, face buried in his pillow so his voice was muffled. She sat next to him, just far enough away that she wasn't at risk of being accidentally struck, and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Who, little prince?” He looked up at her, eyed red and tear filled, and she thought her heart would break at the look of sadness on his face. She scooped him up, pulling him into her lap even though, really, he was too big for it, and he rested his head on her shoulder, sniffling morosely.

“Mother.”

“No you don't. You love her.”

“She wont let me play with Aya anymore. She's horrible. I hate her.” His voice cracked and he let out a little broken sob, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She held him tight as he cried, feeling the familiar shift of Loki changing forms under her hands. She knew, without having to check, that she now held a crying young woman, and she stroked hair that was longer and softer than it had been only moments before.

“She's just doing what's best for you sweetheart. She loves you very much, and this is for the best.”

“Do you _really_ believe that?” She looked up at her, eyes narrowed.

“Yes. It's for the best.”

“You're lying.” She gave her a stern look, every inch a princess at that moment despite her ruffled hair and puffy eyes, and Gylla wondered when she'd gotten so good at sniffing out the truth.

“No I'm not!”

“Yes you are. I can tell. When you lie your nose flares a little bit. Your nose just flared.” _Damn_ Well... Loki was right, she was lying through her teeth, because even though she understood the situation didn't mean she had to like it, and seeing her charge so broken by it all was almost too much for her. She watched Gylla carefully, and she made sure Loki didn't see any reluctance or disagreement in her features, knowing all too well that if she did she would break out the puppy dog eyes to get her own way... Which in this case would be devastating.

“Can't get anything past you can I?”

“No. Nothing. I'm very smart.” There was no bragging or pride in her voice, and Gylla smirked, because if there was one think Loki knew about herself without any doubt at all it was that she was smart, much smarter than a lot of the people she knew. It wasn't something she even thought to be smug about or proud of, it was just a simple fact that, added to everything else about her that made her different, set her aside from her peers.

“True. Who is your new playmate?” The young woman rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, throwing her free arm in the air in a gesture of exasperation that elicited a chuckle from Gylla.

“Erika something... She's _horrible_. I took her to see the horses and she told me Sleipnir is ugly and has too many legs.”

“Well that's not very nice.” Understatement of the millennia, Sleipnir was not only Odins favourite horse, but the favourite of everyone who met him, and for a horse he was remarkably astute. He'd been known to kick people who were unpleasant or insulting to him, which lead people to believe that he had an human understanding of language. Loki loved Sleipnir dearly, and would spend hours just talking to the horse, enjoying the way he would look at her like he knew exactly what she was saying, nodding in all the right places and letting out snorts that sounded like laughter or disgust where fitting.

“No, and he heard her too. I don't think he likes her much either. She's boring and mean and I don't want to play with her.”

“She can't be that bad... Surely?” Loki looked at her like she was quite mad and hadn't listened to a word she'd just said before shaking her head indulgently.

“She is. She just complained the whole time about everything. It was horrible. I think she just wants to play with me so she can say she's friends with a prince. I'm sure she'd rather be friends with Thor but she's too young and Thor has lots of friends. She kept asking if we could go and see him.”

“Maybe it will get better?” She hoped it would at least, for everyones sake, because it sounded like neither child was going to enjoy the situation and the last thing anyone needed was two very unhappy children forced together despite the fact that they couldn't stand each other just to please their families and keep up appearances.

“I don't think so. She doesn't like books and she thinks magick is stupid and she hates being outside and really, that's all the things I like that she doesn't like at all! What are we supposed to do?”

“You'll think of something my love.” Loki sighed deeply, resting her head back on to Gylla shoulder.

“I don't want to. I never want to see her again, ever.”

“Well I don't think that's an option I'm afraid. I'm sorry sweetheart.”

“This is so unfair. I do hate her you know.”


	13. 12: The Little Princess.

The first time her little prince had become her little princess they were testing his shapeshifting abilities and before she knew it Gylla was looking at a nervous young woman and trying to work out quite what the protocol was for unexpected gender swapping. She could hardly call him “he” when he was clearly a “she”... So they had spoken at great lengths about how, when in a female form, Loki wanted to be addressed, if she planned on doing it with any regularity. She decided that gender appropriate words be used, and they'd spoken about peoples reactions, and how not everyone would be willing to accept such a change. Loki had decided, during that time, that she quite enjoyed being a girl instead of being a boy, and for two weeks the palace adjusted to the sight of a female Loki as she went about her day as if there was nothing different. After explaining to as many people as possible, including Frigga, Odin and Thor, the nature of the changes and what it meant in terms of referring to Loki, everyone had settled in as best they could. Thor had taken to the change immediately, calling Loki “Sister!” and switching to female pronouns with ease, which had pleased Loki and Gylla to no end. Finally Loki felt more like she belonged, finally felt like her skin fit and that she had found her place in her family and home. Odin had accepted the change, with a bit of difficulty, but made sure to respect Loki's wishes. Frigga on the other hand hadn't liked it at all, and grudgingly used female terms for Loki only when she was in ear shot, if she “remembered”. After two weeks she'd had quite enough, and during their alone time had gently told Loki to stop being silly, to stop pretending to be a girl and go back to normal, people were unsettled that a prince was behaving in such a way, they didn't like it, couldn't accept it. Frigga didn't often ask much of her children, and was always kind and gentle with them, and Loki hadn't wanted to disappoint the mother that she loved, so when Gylla next saw her charge he was a he again.

That didn't mean Loki stopped switching genders, preferring to be a woman in certain situations where being female carried less stigma. When he was sick or upset he often took his female form, as sickness, weakness, crying and showing pain were less frowned upon in women than men, who couldn't show any signs of weakness at all. It was almost as if he didn't control it, and Gylla knew well enough that he found comfort in his female form in difficult times, so she never questioned it, never made him feel guilty about it even if she could see Frigga rolling her eyes or sighing with disappointment out of Loki's view when she saw it.  

Loki had spent three days in female form, spending her time in her bedroom reading while she got over a broken arm that she had studiously refused to let Gylla heal, which gave the older woman the opinion that Loki was using her injury to spend some time in the form that she clearly favoured, but got to use so infrequently. They were sat in her bedroom, Loki reading an obscure book Gylla had sourced from Jötunheim about water and winter based nature magick, while Gylla herself continued knitting a comforter she had been working on for months that Loki secretly believed would never be completed. She didn't think it was ever meant to be.

“Gylla?” The older woman looked over at her charge, curled up like a cat on her bed, long legs tucked neatly under herself, long dark hair falling gently past her shoulders, with a smile. It always shocked her how, with all the changes that went into making Loki female, there was still such a strong similarity. Her eyes, she supposed, and the graceful lines of her face, both in male and female forms, meant she looked like herself regardless. She doubted the same would be said for Thor if the tables were turned.

“Yes my love.”

“Do you think I could be a girl? For good?” It would be one of those days then, where Loki asked questions that she knew Gylla would struggle to answer, but would eventually answer none the less. The older she got the more Loki pressed at things that most ignored, needing to know how everything worked and why, how people thought and what motivated them. It lead to some interesting discussions, and even more interesting pranks and tricks. She considered the question briefly, deciding her best course was to deflect somewhat until she could work out what answer would be best.

“I don't know... Would you want to?”

“Yes, I think I would.” The young woman barely stopped to think about her answer, and it didn't surprise Gylla at all that given the chance Loki would chose to live as a woman, it did surprise her that the queens talk hadn't even given the princess pause.

“Even after what your mother asked of you?”

“Yes. I like it, I'm happier... Why should it matter if I'm a prince or a princess? I know I wont be king, Thor will, and women can fight too, Sif has proved that. Why shouldn't I be able to be a girl?”

“Well... You know, sometimes you ask very difficult questions.” Gylla put down her knitting, moving to sit beside Loki, stroking her hair softly. Sometimes it was better to be comfortable for awkward conversations, which this was shaping up to be.

“Is it really that difficult?”  
“Yes, in a way. I know what I want to say, that it doesn't matter and you should do whatever makes you happy, but what I probably should say is that it matters because what people think matters, and people might think that it's wrong. I'm torn between telling you what I feel, and what I know other people want us both to think.” Loki nodded, understanding the points that the older woman had made, knowing from what her mother had told her her entire life that the opinions of the people of Asgard were of the utmost importance. However, she knew that the only opinions that truly mattered were those of her family, a part of which she considered Gylla. Not that it really mattered.

“But you, personally, think I should if it would make me happy?”

“Yes, personally I do. It's something you would have to talk to your parents about though, if you were seriously considering it.” The young woman took her companions hand, looking at the lines on her skin, wondering not for the first time how old she was... Younger than her mother? Older, somehow? She'd never asked, it seemed rude, but it was a question she wound herself considering from time to time, especially at times like these, when she seemed kind and wise beyond years.

“I don't have to, I know what they will say. Father will agree once I have made my case, but mother would be against it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes... It's quite clear she doesn't want a daughter.” They both frowned, knowing it was true. Frigga's dislike of Loki switching gender seemed excessive, but it was a fact that probably wouldn't change. She was dead set against it.

“Then why do you ask?”

“Because I wanted to know what you thought.”

“It doesn't matter what I think love.” She patted Lokis hand gently, smiling a sad little smile that only appeared when she wanted to do something different to her instructions, but couldn't, and that there was nothing she could do about it. It was the same smile she'd worn when she had listened to Loki cry over Aya. Helplessly sad, while trying so hard not to be.

“Of course it does.” She looked at her like she'd lost her mind, shaking her head slowly. “Everyones opinion matters, especially yours. Especially to me. Your opinion is important to me Gylla, it always has been and it always will be.” She kissed the back of the older womans hand, a gesture of love and respect, and slipped from the bed to collect the knitting from the floor. “You'll be more comfortable here Gylla, that old rocking chair is terribly bad for your back you know.”


	14. 13: Make Me A Promise.

Thirteen was the age when Aesir were considered men, and all of their training became something they could actually have to use at any moment. If war were to break out everyone thirteen and over would be expected to fight to protect their home, and while most saw it as a privilege, Loki was terrified. As a prince it was unlikely that he would go to war unprotected, that he would die, but it was still a possibility and that scared him more than anything else. He was too young, had so much to learn and experience, that the thought that any day now war could break out and he would be expected to fight left him almost paralysed. He hid it as well as he could, and most people didn't see a change in him at all, but it was there under the surface, slowing his movements, making his laugh hollow and his smile more of a grimace. Gylla saw it, saw past the mask he was wearing. She knew he wasn't really a fighter, she knew he was afraid, she was afraid too, that she'd lose him in a battle he had no place fighting in. No-one else seemed to find fault in the system, so maybe it was the fact that she was once Vanir, where boys became men at sixteen and fought then and no earlier that meant she found the whole thing so distasteful. It was barbaric, really, to claim boys were men and send them to their deaths. She could only hope, as much as Loki did, that despite tense relations with the Frost Giants war wasn't coming any time soon.

\---

For the second week in a row Gylla found Loki sat by a stream just beyond the entrance to the woods, his horse tethered to a tree beside him and an open book in his lap. He hadn't even brought a blanket to sit on this time, and as usual there was no food despite the fact he had been there for hours and it was lunch time. He would sometimes forget to eat if he was engrossed in a project, and part of her job was to bring him food and remind him to eat if required, although now he was simply lost in himself, and only seemed to be able to remember to take something to busy his hands when he disappeared for the day. If she wasn't around he would probably starve. She tied her own horse up beside his and sat next to him, placing the small basket of food she'd brought with her in front of him.

“You need to eat little prince. What would I do if you starved?” He looked over at her with a sad smile, surprised to see her there even though if he'd thought about it he should have expected her to show up as she had done every day since his birthday.

“Find another boy to look after?”

“Oh come now, do you think I could ever replace you? Eat.” He put his book to one side as she pulled parcels of food out of the basket and settled them on the grass in front of them, finding that he was actually starving now he stopped to think about it.

“Yes Ma'am.” He grinned and she tsk'd and dug in to the careful mix of his favourite foods. He handed her a bread roll which she gently broke into pieces before looking over at him with a small frown.

“So... What's on your mind today little prince?” He let out a sigh before answering, knowing it was useless to pretend there was nothing bothering him.

“The same as always.”

“Dwelling on it won't help. The more time you spend thinking about what could happen, the less time you have to spend actually doing the things you want to do.”

“I know, I just... It could be any day.”

“And if it was, would you be happy knowing you spent weeks sat in the woods reading instead of doing all of the things you were scared you'd never have a chance to do?” He shook his head, picking at the roll in his hands, rolling bits of bread into small balls and scattering them around him.

“You're right. I know you are, but I just can't seem to get over the fear enough to actually do anything. It's like I'm just waiting, stuck, until something happens.” She gently lay a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. She knew his fear, he knew that, and just having someone there that felt the same way as him helped to a small degree. Generally having Gylla around helped, she just seemed to know what to do or say to make things seem a little bit brighter.

“Whatever comes you wont face it alone little prince. You have me, for as much good as that will do, and your brother. He wouldn't allow you to come to harm.”

\---

“Prince Thor, could I speak with you for a moment?” She stood at the entrance to the stables, nervous about interrupting Thor and his friends in whatever it was they were doing, but needing to talk to him, to get something out of her mind. He turned to her with a smile that was reserved for family and friends, and she couldn't help but smile back, feeling slightly more at ease.

“Of course Gylla.” He turned to his companions with a small nod “I shall return shortly.”

“Thank you.” They walked away from the stables and across the path that lead to the gardens in silence while she collected her thoughts, tried to find a way to say what she wanted to say without sounding insolent. Finally Thor broke the silence, voice gentle, as if he knew that something was weighing heavily on her mind. He probably did. He was sharper than people gave him credit for, which worked in his advantage. He let people think he was stupid so that they didn't expect him to do anything smart. A helpful advantage.

“What is bothering you?”

“I have cared for your brother for thirteen years, and if I am honest he is like a son to me.”

“Aye, you have served our family well. You are like family to myself and Loki, we care very much for you.” She blushed, turning away from him slightly. It wouldn't do to get any more emotional, even if being told that she was cared for as family by more than just her charge was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“I need you to make me a promise, Thor. It is not that I believe you will not do what I ask anyway, more that I need to have it spoken.”  
“Of course.” She stopped and turned to face him, looking up into his eyes carefully.

“I need you to promise me that should you go to war, should Loki go with you, that you will protect him. He is so young. I know, as his brother, you would do so anyway, I just... I need you to promise me.” She wrung her hands, nervous about how he would take her words, but he simply smiled down at her and lay a hand gently on her arm.  
“I promise you Gylla, that I will always protect Loki to the best of my abilities. He is my brother and I love him dearly, nothing would stop me from making sure he is well.”

“Thank you.”  
“There is nothing for you to thank me for. However I feel that I must thank you.”

“I don't understand.” She frowned up at him, confused. She hadn't done anything worth thanking, so what was he talking about?

“You have always done the best for Loki, protected him and stood up for him even when others who should have did not. He is lucky to have you, we all are.”

“Well... It is my pleasure.” She was blushing again, she could feel it, and he grinned at her, a brief flash of his younger self breaking through. If anything, she was lucky to have them, not just because it meant she had a job and a roof over her head, but because she would probably have gone mad by now if she hadn't had her charge to keep her occupied and on her toes.

“How is he?” There was concern in his eyes, and Gylla realised that he too had noticed the change in Loki. She should have expected it, they were brothers after all, Thor probably knew considerably more about Loki than he let on.

“Worried. Frightened. He doesn't want anyone to know it, but with everything as it is with the Frost Giants, well... He is afraid that war will come and he will be fighting.”

“It is a fear we have all had, especially when we first came of age. Most of us embrace the idea of war, are thirsty for it, but Loki has never joined in that. He has always been more interesting in pursuits of the mind than the rest of us. He is right to be afraid, and he hides it well. Have no fear. He will be safe if war comes to us.”

“Thank you Thor. I feel much better. I'll let you get back to your friends.”

“Good day Gylla.” He gave her a friendly smile and small bow before turning and walking back towards the stables. She hadn't been lying when she told him she was feeling better, talking to him had eased some of her fears, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he would be watching out for his brother. She knew of course that he would be, but hearing him say it was like a balm. She wouldn't tell Loki about his brothers promise, not wanting him to feel like a child or a bother, but it was done and she knew. That was what mattered.


	15. 14: Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Memories shift, fading in and out of focus, changing ever so slightly with each view, adjusting facts to fit the mood. Because she was sure it hadn't been cold and on the verge of storming that day, but when she looked back on it now her memory was tinged with foreboding weather, a deep chill in the air and dark clouds in the sky. Realistically she knew it had been a day like any other, without any dramatic clues about how it would end, but that didn't stop her mind changing it to suit. The worst day of your life should be dramatic in some way. You should know that something terrible is coming. Even if you cannot possibly know what it is.

\---

The palace was frantic, buzzing with people rushing about nervously, unsure of what to do or say or where to be. Normally in this situation everything would go on as usual, but this wasn't a normal situation, not by a long shot, because although every five years Odin fell into his power restoring Odin-Sleep, it was all planned. This wasn't. This morning, only three years from his last Odin-Sleep, he had simply slipped away in the middle of a meeting, as if he had run out of power or energy. And no-one knew why. Arrangements had hastily been made and everything was expected to go back to normal, but it hadn't. Everyone was too shocked, too shaken up to really slip back into old habits and routines. The question on everyones lips was _Why?_ What had happened to send him into an impromptu Odin-Sleep? There had been no war, no huge drain on his powers, and he had given no indication that anything was wrong. Behind the shock, hidden carefully, biding it's time, was fear. Fear that this meant the end of him, fear that a fresh faced Thor, only twenty, would have to step up and take the throne. Fear that everything everyone knew was coming undone, and they had no idea why.

Gylla rushed to find Loki, to explain to him what had happened as best she could before gossip and speculation reached him and sent into a panic. The fact that his beloved father had to leave himself relatively weak and unprotected during Odin-Sleep's worried Loki at the best of times, hearing third hand from the idle gossip of staff about what had happened and what they thought it would mean would only upset him further. Better he hear it from her, calm and without added dramatics, so he didn't worry unduly. Until they knew anything there was no need to panic.

The private halls were unnaturally quiet, as if every person was afraid to make a noise in case it had some kind of horrible consequence, and the guards that normally stood sentry in the hall that contained the princes rooms were missing, probably guarding Odins chamber. She took a moment outside of Loki's door to collect herself, to present a face of calm certainty and then pushed the door open, expecting to see the prince at his desk as he always was at this time, working on something or other that even his tutor didn't understand. Instead he was stood with his back to her, looking at himself in the mirror with a mixture of shock and horror, and her jaw dropped. His eyes met hers in his reflection, not the usual clear green she knew and loved but blood red with no whites to be seen, eyes so different but fundamentally the same, eyes that were filled with fear. His skin was a rich blue, lined with intricate raised welts, and he all but glowed, the air around him steaming slightly at the contrast in temperature. This was it, what Frigga had been so afraid of people knowing all these years, the reason Loki's magick was so strong. He was a frost giant, Jotun... A small one, but a Jotun none the less. He turned to face her, slowly, like he was moving through quick sand, eyes pleading to understand what was happening to him, why the face of an enemy was staring back at him as his own reflection.

“Gylla... What am I..? What's going on...?” But she couldn't answer, couldn't give him the explanation he needed, didn't know what to do or say. She was lost, completely out of her depth, and she knew that only one person in the palace could made this right.

“I don't know... I... I'm going to fetch your mother.”

“Gylla... Please don't go... I'm scared, please...”

“I will be back, I promise, but I must fetch your mother. She will know what to do... She can explain...” She hoped.

She found the queen sat at Odins bedside, holding his hand gently, worry etched across her face. As much as she hated the thought of adding to everything the queen was going through right now she knew that in the order of importance Loki's current situation was probably at the top. Frigga had fought and lied to keep the secret of who he was, and now completely by accident it had been discovered, if only by herself. It was only a matter of time before someone else found themselves in his room and saw the truth of him, and at that moment everything would unravel.

\---

“My queen, I'm sorry to trouble you, especially now, but we have a problem... With Loki.” She glanced warily at the guards dotted around the room, choosing her words carefully.

“Gylla, not now... You can handle it I'm sure. Please.”

“No, I don't think you understand, something has happened to him... You must go to him.”

“ **Gylla!** I said not now, I do not have the time for this, whatever has happened you can cope with.” Her voice was sharp, annoyed, and Gylla took a deep breath before trying again. She had to make the queen understand without out right telling her, and everyone else in the room, what was happening.

“My queen... He is feeling rather _blue_ , a different boy than he was this morning... I fear I cannot fix this, nor should anyone else attempt to, lest they see such a change in him.” She loaded her tone with insinuation, and when Frigga looked up at her in confusion and met her gaze she tried to send her a single thought... _Jotun_... The connection was so much harder without actual physical contact, but Friggas widened eyes let her know that one way or another she had understood.

“A change you say?” Frigga kept her tone light, slightly worried but not enough to match the fear in her eyes and the frown on her lips.

“Yes my queen... Quite a significant change...”

“I see... Yes... I believe I understand what you are saying to me. You and you alone have seen this change?”

“Yes. So far.”

“OK... Good. Well... I need you to go to Heimdalls observatory and call him to Odins chamber. Tell him he is to watch his king and protect him, then wait for me there. I will see to Loki.” She didn't move, looking at the queen in confusion at the command. Of all things to send her to fetch Heimdall who hears all and was probably, at this moment, on his way, already knowing he was needed. “Now, Gylla... Go.” She nodded and bowed slightly, leaving the room as the queen stood, smoothing her skirts and straightening her back. It may not make sense, but she must do it anyway.

\---

She waited for twenty minutes in the observatory before Frigga arrived, Gungnir in her hands, face impassive and eyes calculating. It didn't take her long to realise that something was wrong, that maybe this wasn't going to end well for her at all, but she held her tongue, waiting.

“Gylla... You have worked here for many years, cared for my son like he was your own. I have always appreciated that, the love and compassion you have afforded him, how this was more than a job to you.” She watched the queen gripping the spear like it was a life raft, the only thing stopping her from sinking under the surf, a small smile on her face. It wasn't a smile that Gylla had ever seen on Frigga unless she was talking to her family, and for a moment she allowed herself to believe that maybe the worst was not coming.

“Thank you.”

“Now, it would seem, your time with us is at an end. You have seen too much... Something you were never meant to see. No-one was ever meant to see it, what Loki truly is, but accidents happen.” Her voice was light, as if she was talking about a plant getting too much sun, not her youngest child transforming into a frost giant in his bedroom without warning. Back to the queen who could make a threat sound like a compliment.

“Will you at least tell me what happened?”

“Of course... You deserve an explanation, and you wont be able to tell anyone anyway. During the great war Odin discovered Loki abandoned, a little runt Jötun baby, the prince it turned out, Laufeys own son, left to die in the wastes for being small and sickly, weak. Not good Jötun stock I suppose. So Odin brought him back with him, spelled him to keep his heritage from showing. Powerful magick, very draining, a glamour I suppose you could call it. Loki has worn it his whole life, and been none the wiser, only three people know what he is.” She looked proud, and whether that was because of her adopted son and how he had grown into a wonderful young man, or the fact that they had successfully hidden who he was for so long was beyond Gylla... She hoped against hope it was the former. Or maybe it was both. A thought struck her, and she smiled lightly.

“Heimdall is one I assume... He knows everything.”

“Yes. We raised Loki as our own, keeping the truth from him until... Well, now I suppose, unless I can fix that. One day we hope to unite our lands through him but, well... I don't hold much hope for that working.” She gave Gylla a look that said _Men and their plans_ , indulgent and dismissive in the same moment. “I believe Loki's shape shifting drained his fathers powers faster than normal, but that is purely speculation. One of the ways we ready for his Odin-Sleep is to set something in place to hold the glamour in his place, this time we didn't have a chance. When he slipped, so did the spell, and you saw the effects. I hadn't thought about it until you came to me.” She frowned, disappointed in herself for forgetting something so important, even in a time of panic. Her mind should always be on keeping her family safe, even from themselves, and she'd let the side down. It was her fault that this had happened, and it was a mistake she wouldn't make again.

“How is he?”

“Well... The spell is back in place. I must find something to tell him, some way to explain.”

“The truth?” Frigga scoffed and Gylla could only frown in response... Obviously the truth hadn't been an option to consider before, but surely now it was the _only_ option there was?

“I hope not. Unfortunately Gylla, you cannot stay. Not knowing what you do.” She watched as Frigga shifted the spear so it's handle rested under one arm and on her hip, it's point now pointed in her direction. She should be afraid, she knew, especially considering the look of grim determination on the queens face, but she found that she was calm. If this was it, if this was the end of everything then she was thankful at least to have had these years with her little prince, to have loved him and been loved by him in return. She only wished that she could say goodbye, let him know how much he meant to her, how special he was, how loved, and that no matter what to remember that he was important. She straightened her shoulders, standing proud in the face of... Whatever was coming.

“What will you do to me? Kill me?” Friggas lip curled in disgust and Gylla felt a moments relief. Not that then.

“Heavens no, nothing as distasteful as that. I will bind you to silence on this and cast you out. I am sorry, you probably do not believe that, but I am. I would rather not do this.”

“Then don't.” Her voice held more pleading than she wanted, but really it would do no harm for Frigga to know how desperately she didn't want whatever was coming to happen. The queen lowered the staff, holding it the same way they had all seen Odin do, like a walking stick, ready to be struck against the ground and pass his will. Gyllas stomach clenched at the sight, it looked so wrong, a bastardization of something sacred.

“I have to. I have to protect what I have built.”

“I see. Where will you send me?” It was unimportant, really, to know where she would go. No matter where it was it meant the same thing, isolation, banishment, never seeing her little prince again. She could be thrown to the darkest reaches of Niflheim for all she cared.

“I was thinking of Vanaheim... But they would kill you, or worse, torture you for information. Somewhere else, somewhere safer, where magic doesn't exist.” As Frigga spoke, so calmly, the penny dropped for Gylla and she felt suddenly as if she couldn't breathe, as if the air had been dragged painfully from her lungs.

“You plan to take my magic?”

“Yes. If I don't then you can break the binding of silence, return... No... It's safer for us all if your magic is bound too.”

“I see.” There was nothing left now, she knew. She would be abandoned to die somewhere, alone and without even her magick for protection and help. She was numb, completely.

“You surprise me Gylla... I expected you to fight me.”

“You hold Gungnir... There is nothing more powerful in all of the realms. There is no point in fighting you, I will only lose.” The queen nodded, appreciative of her decision not to make a fuss and complicate something that was already difficult enough.

“Wise. Well, thank you for making this easier for me.”

“What will you tell Loki, of my leaving?”

“I don't know yet. Rest assured, I will think of something.” She raised Gungnir and closed her eyes, lips moving silently, and then brought the end of the spear to the floor with a crack that sounded like power, it's echoes sending waves of magick against Gyllas skin, magick more powerful than anything she had felt before, twisting and tightening around her, pulling and pushing. Her skin burned, her mind screamed, her bones felt like they were turning to powder before finally, blissfully, there was only black as she lost consciousness. 


	16. Epilogue: Dear Gylla.

_Dear Gylla,_

_I'm sorry I scared you. Mother told me you left because of what I am and what that means to the Aesir. I'm not supposed to tell anyone because Mother says they will probably try to hurt me because I'm a monster. Well, that bit was me, the monster bit, because I am really. Frost Giants are monsters, I am a Frost Giant, ergo I am a monster. No amount of lessons and what have you changes what I am on the inside. No-one was ever supposed to see, especially not me, but when Father fell into his Odinsleep this time something went wrong with the spell binding my Frost Giant form. It showed, it was never meant to._

_I promise I will never hurt you Gylla, you are like family to me and I love you dearly, I could never hurt you. Please come home, I miss you. It's not the same here without you. My form is bound again, and now I know what I am I can try my hardest not to do anything to hurt anyone. We have a secret together now, you and I. What I really am. I wonder if you ever suspected, you always told me I was different, but I doubt you knew how different I really was. Not Aesir at all. Not by birth at least. Father doesn't know that I know. Mother made me promise not to say anything to him either._

_Please come back._

_Love_

_Your Little Prince._

Frigga threw the letter into the fire, watching it slowly burn to nothing. Gylla was no longer welcome here, not after what she had seen, and it was better for everyone if Loki believed she had abandoned him because of what he was, rather than the truth. That she had banished her. The secret of Loki's true heritage was something she would protect at all costs, even if it meant binding the truth to Gylla so she could never speak it to another soul. Loki was a different matter. Could she trust that he was afraid enough of the reactions of others to keep the secret himself, or would she have to find another way to keep him silent? She could bind him too, she supposed, and she wouldn't have to whisper a word of it to Odin. She could use Gungnir just as she had to bind the woman and bind the truth to Loki too, although that seemed cruel. To have something like that on his mind, unable to utter it, always knowing at least the truth of what he was, if not everything else.

Loki didn't know all of it, didn't know that his father had found him during the Great War and had taken him. She didn't know what he believed had happened, she couldn't talk to him about it to find out, couldn't face the questions in his eyes. Maybe she could find a way to hide the memory of what he had seen from himself. That way, maybe, he would once again be oblivious to the truth. It would be better that he didn't remember the details... Just that Gylla had left him because... Because what? Because he was different in some way. She was always talking about his differences. Because she was scared of that difference. Maybe in his magick, or his nature, but never that he wasn't Aesir. He needed to believe he was one of them.

No-one could know that a Frost Giant was living as royalty in Asgard, and she would do whatever she had to to make sure that no-one ever did. She just needed to think.


End file.
